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.