Behold, My Love, How Green the Groves


 * Behold, my love, how green the groves,
 * The primrose banks how fair;
 * The balmy gales awake the flowers,
 * And wave thy flowing hair.


 * The lav’rock shuns the palace gay,
 * And o’er the cottage sings:
 * For Nature smiles as sweet, I ween,
 * To Shepherds as to Kings.


 * Let minstrels sweep the skilfu’ string,
 * In lordly lighted ha’:
 * The Shepherd stops his simple reed,
 * Blythe in the birken shaw.


 * The Princely revel may survey
 * Our rustic dance wi’ scorn;
 * But are their hearts as light as ours,
 * Beneath the milk-white thorn!


 * The shepherd, in the flowery glen;
 * In shepherd’s phrase, will woo:
 * The courtier tells a finer tale,
 * But is his heart as true!


 * These wild-wood flowers I’ve pu’d, to deck
 * That spotless breast o’ thine:
 * The courtiers’ gems may witness love,
 * But, ’tis na love like mine.