47
When spring or summer decks the year, When lambkins urge their joyful pranks,And flow'rs their budding beauties rear, On the smooth streamlet's grassy banks;
From ev'ry shrub that scents the air, He plucks a blossom wet with dew,And with it forms a garland fair, To grace the chesnut locks of Sue.
Then on the turf supinely laid, No ruffling care to vex his mind,He sings his lovely cottage-maid, For ever fair, for ever kind.
The song is simple as the swain; He chaunts in wild untutor'd lays,The pleasures of the rural plain, And chaunts them all to Susan's praise.
"Oh! come, my love! the spring returns; I hear her herald in the grove,The shepherd's breast with rapture burns, And all is harmony and love.
What countless beauties paint the scene, The rural scene still form'd to please;Where virtue, love, and friendship reign, Where dwell contentment, health, and ease!
We'll wander up yon woodland hill, Where spring's sweet infant breezes blow;
