Do you know my sweetheart, sir?
She has fled and gone away.
I’ve lost my love; pray tell to me
Have you seen her pass to-day?
Dewy bluebells are her eyes;
Golden corn her waving hair;
Her cheeks are of the sweet blush-roses:
Have you seen this maiden fair?
White lilies are her neck, sir;
And her breath the eglantine;
Her rosy lips the red carnations:
Such is she, this maiden mine.
The light wind is her laughter;
The murmuring brooks her song;
Her tears, so full of tender pity,
In the clouds are borne along.
The sunbeams are her smiles;
The leaves her footsteps light;
To kiss each coy flower into life
Is my true love’s delight.
I will tell ye who she is,
And how all things become her.
Bend down, that I may whisper,
My sweetheart’s name is — "Summer."
