Where Queen-of-the-meadow scents the air,
And wild thyme adds aroma rare,
With bluebells nodding to the pair--
A charming lot,
Along with other flowers as fair,
Forget-me-not.
I love to wander all alone,
Free from thoughts of goods or gear,
Far from the haunts of worldly men,
In sweeter, purer, atmosphere;
Where bonnie blooms the heather bell
On mountain side and moorland fell,
And dancing fairies weave their spell
In mystic ring;
Where lovers meet their tale to tell,
And wild birds sing.
I love to wander all alone,
At morn or noon or evening fall,
With cheerful voice and grateful heart
To praise the Giver of it all.