Are all its mountains tipt with gold, its valleys tinged with green,
Its thousand laughing streams that sport, half sunshine and half shade,
Like love’s first herald seen upon the rosy cheeked maid.
The springing flowers are beautiful that open to the day,
And spread their perfume far and wide along the sunny way;
The vine-clad rocks and shady dells that bask in beauty’s sheen;
This world of ours is beautiful—wherever it is seen.
This world of ours was beautiful in those good olden days
When knights would battle valiantly for ladies’ smiles and praise;
When in the list and on the turf, with lance and spear and sword,