behold, my love, how green the groves（1/1）

behold, my love, how green the groves

tune—“my lodging is on the cold ground.”

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.