My heart is high, is high, my dear,
And the Heaven's deep skies are blue;
My heart is high as the passionate year,
And smiles like a bud in dew.
My heart, my heart is high, my sweet,
For wild is the smell o' the wood,
That gusts in the breeze with a pulse o' heat,
Mad heat that beats like a blood.
My heart, my heart is high, my sweet,
And the sense of summer is full;