(GERMAN AIR.)
When the first summer bee
O'er the young rose shall hover,
Then, like that gay rover,
I'll come to thee.
He to flowers, I to lips, full of sweets to the brim—
What a meeting, what a meeting for me and for him!
When the first summer bee, etc.
Then, to every bright tree
In the garden he'll wander;
While I, oh, much fonder,
Will stay with thee.
In search of new sweetness thro' thousands he'll run,
While I find the sweetness of thousands in one.
Then, to every bright tree, etc.
THO' 'TIS ALL BUT A DREAM.
(FRENCH AIR.)
Tho' 'tis all but a dream at the best,
And still, when happiest, soonest o'er,
Yet, even in a dream, to be blest
Is so sweet, that I ask for no more.
The bosom that opes
With earliest hopes,
The soonest finds those hopes untrue:
As flowers that first
In spring-time burst
The earliest wither too!
Ay—'tis all but a dream, etc.
Tho' by friendship we oft are deceived,
And find love's sunshine soon o'ercast,
Yet friendship will still be believed.
And love trusted on to the last.
The web 'mong the leaves
The spider weaves
Is like the charm Hope hangs o'er men;
Tho' often she sees
'Tis broke by the breeze,
She spins the bright tissue again.
Ay—'tis all but a dream, etc.
WHEN THE WINE-CUP IS SMILING.
(ITALIAN AIR.)
When the wine-cup is smiling before us,
And we pledge round to hearts that are true, boy, true,
Then the sky of this life opens o'er us,
And Heaven gives a glimpse of its blue.
Talk of Adam in Eden reclining,
We are better, far better off thus, boy, thus;
For him but two bright eyes were shining—
See, what numbers are sparkling for us!