BEHOLD, my Love, how green the groves,
The primrose banks how fair;
The balmy gales awake the flowers,
And wave thy flaxen hair:
The lavrock shuns the palace gay,
And o'er the cottage sings;
For Nature smiles as sweet, I ween,
To shepherds as to kings.------

Let minstrels sweep the skillfu' string,
In lordly, lighted ha';
The shepherd stops his simple reed,
Blythe, in the birken shaw:
The princely revel may survey
Our rustic dance wi' scorn,
But are their hearts as light as ours
Beneath the milk-white thorn.------

The shepherd, in the flowery glen;
In shepherd's phrase will woo:
The courtier tells a finer tale,
But is his heart as true:
These wild-wood flowers I've pu'd, to deck
That spotless breast o' thine;
The courtiers' gems may witness love------
But, 'tis na love like mine.------