To that murmur from the woodland of the dove, my dear, the dove;
When the nightingale came after, ‘Give us fame to sweeten duty!’
When the wren sang, ‘Give us beauty!’
She made answer, ‘Give us love!’
“Sweet is spring, and sweet the morning, my beloved, my beloved;
Now for us doth spring, doth morning, wait upon the year’s increase,
And my prayer goes up, ‘Oh, give us, crowned in youth with marriage glory,
Give for all our life’s dear story,
Give us love, and give us peace!’”
“A very good song too,” said the dame, at the other end of the table; “only you made a mistake in the first verse. What the dove really said was, no doubt, ‘Give us peas.’ All kinds of doves and pigeons are very fond of peas.”