The jewels of her delight,
What shall be blue, what yellow or white;
What softest above the rest,
The primrose, that loveth best
Woodland skirts and the copses shorn.
2.
And on the day of relenting she suddenly weareth
Her budding crowns. O then, in the early morn,
Is any song that compareth
With the gaiety of birds, that thrill the gladdened air