489. Song—Behold my love how green the groves

 BEHOLD, my love, how green the groves,
 The primrose banks how fair;
The balmy gales awake the flowers,
 And wave thy flowing hair.



The lav’rock 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 skilfu’ 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.

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