And of nought but delight I could dream.
While he by my side did recline,
The flowers seem’d to brighten their bloom;
The sun with more lustre did shine,
And fragrance the fields did perfume.
Still pleas’d with his whispers of love,
Still charm’d with his amorous tale;
Now beauty’s forsaken the grove,
And his absence I’ll ever bewail.
How gloomy and dismal the shade,