SONG.
1
There sits a bird on yonder tree,
More fond than Cushat Dove;
There sits a bird on yonder tree,
And sings to me of love.
Oh! stoop thee from thine eyrie down!
And nestle thee near my heart.
For the moments fly,
And the hour is nigh,
When thou and I must part
My love!
When thou and I must part.
2
In yonder covert lurks a Fawn,
The pride of the sylvan scene;
In yonder covert lurks a Fawn,
And I am his only queen;
Oh! bound from thy secret lair,
For the sun is below the west;
No mortal eye
May our meeting spy,
For all are clos'd in rest,
My Love!
Each eye is closed in rest.
3
Oh, sweet is the breath of morn!
When the sun's first beams appear;
Oh! sweet is the shepherd's strain,
When it dies on the listening ear;
And sweet the soft voice which speaks
The Wanderer's welcome home;
But sweeter far
By yon pale mild star,
With our true Love thus to roam,
My Dear!
With our own true love to roam?
