’Tis fair nature’s sweetest hour,
In her loveliest garb she reigns;
Wake, and in her sylvan bow’r,
Tune her praise in joyous strains.
2.
See! the lark with early note,
Soars above the flow’ry lea,
As he pours from warbling throat,
Songs of cheerful melody.
Why should we, to cots confined,