Was to outsing the linnet,--Dear little soul!
Through the long grass, then would I steal,
In music and sunshine to have my part.
That no one was coming, seemed she to feel,
Till the warm kiss, made the sweet maid start.
Then would she smile,
Through her blushes the while,
And vow she did not love me,--Dear little heart!
The sunshine is stealing still through the trees.
Still in the green woods the gay birds sing,
But those leaves have fall'n by the wintry breeze,