Flowers of summer, sweetly springing,
Deck the dewy lap of earth;
Birds of love are fondly singing
In their gay and jocund mirth:
Streams are pouring from their fountains,
Echoing through each rugged dell;
Heather bells adorn the mountains,
Bid the city, love! farewell.
See the boughs are rich in blossom,
Through each sunlit, silent grove;
Cast all sorrow from thy bosom--
Freedom is the soul of love!
Let us o'er the valleys wander,
Nor a frown within us dwell,
And in joy see Nature's grandeur--
Bid the city, love! farewell.
Morning's sun shall then invite us
By the ever sparkling streams;
Evening's fall again delight us
With its crimson-coloured beams.
Flowers of summer sweetly springing,
Deck the dewy lap of earth;
Birds of love are loudly singing,
In their gay and jocund mirth.