The birds that break from grass and grove

Sing every carol that they sung

When first our veins were rich with love

And May her mantle round us flung.

O fresh-lit dawn! immortal life!

O Earth’s betrothal, sweet and true,

With whose delights our souls are rife!

And aye their vernal vows renew!

Then, darling, walk with me this morn;

Let your brown tresses drink its sheen;