Its daisy blooms will meet us;
And the reed-pipe strain on the distant plain,
With the herd-boy’s song will greet us.
Let us go abroad at the early dawn,
With the blue sky bending o’er us;
While the mingled music of grove and lawn
Goes up in a grateful chorus;
For sweet is the breath of the morning, love,
And sweet are the opening flowers;
And sweet shall our communion prove,