 | Irish Songs and Ballads |  |
166
A SONG OF THE SEASONS.
Oh! the Spring's delight
Is the cowslip bright,
As she laughs to the warbling linnet,
And a whistling thrush
On a white May bush,
And his mate on her nest within it.
Is the cowslip bright,
As she laughs to the warbling linnet,
And a whistling thrush
On a white May bush,
And his mate on her nest within it.
Summer she shows
Her rose, her rose!
And oh! all the happy night long
The nightingale woos her;
At dawn the lark sues her,
With the crystal surprise of his song.
Her rose, her rose!
And oh! all the happy night long
The nightingale woos her;
At dawn the lark sues her,
With the crystal surprise of his song.
King Autumn's crown
Is the barley brown,
Red over with rosy fruit;
And the yellow trees,
As they sigh in the breeze,
Are the strings of his solemn lute.
Is the barley brown,
Red over with rosy fruit;
And the yellow trees,
As they sigh in the breeze,
Are the strings of his solemn lute.
167
Old Winter's breath
Is cold as death,
'Tis lonesome he's left the earth;
Yet the thrush he sings,
And the rose she springs
From the flame of his fairy hearth.
Is cold as death,
'Tis lonesome he's left the earth;
Yet the thrush he sings,
And the rose she springs
From the flame of his fairy hearth.
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