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;