The Shepherd's Song

Of all the flowers the Spring hath met,
And it has met with many,
Thou art to me the fairest yet,
And loveliest, of any.

Though ripening summers round thee bring
Buds to thy swelling bosom,
That wait the cheering smiles of spring
To ripen into blossom;
These buds shall added blessings be,
To make our loves sincerer:
For as their flowers resemble thee,
They'll make thy memory dearer.

And though thy bloom shall pass away,
By winter overtaken,
Thoughts of the past will charms display,
And many joys awaken.
When time shall every sweet remove,
And blight thee on my bosom —
Let beauty fade — to me, my love,
Thou'lt ne'er be out of blossom!

MARY! let us Love employ,
Among the happy smiles of May;
And let us bind the wings of Joy,
And keep him captive for a day.

Nature in love doth now disclose
Her flowers, in full ripe smiles to thee;
'Twill be too late to seek the rose
When autumn-leaves have left the tree:
So let us wreathe Joy's brows to-day,
To-morrow he may speed away.

While on this meadow-bank we sit,
Mark thou the sights that might thee move
Hear how the winds, in amorous fit,
Woo things inanimate to love.
The bulrush bows, in graceful art,
To kiss the river's lesser weeds;
And flags, in many a merry start,
Rustling whisper to the reeds:
Shall things inanimate agree
To love, unmoving thee and me?

See yonder sky-lark, from the corn,
Rises to sing his wedding-lay;
For he was wed at early morn,
And twilight gave the bride away.
The church above the trees doth climb,
Love! promise, and we'll soon be there;
'Tis best to borrow haste from Time,
If Time has present joys to spare;
Nor leave Love's lot until the Morrow,
Who oft pays backward debts in sorrow.