SINGING a sweet song,
A lover's own,
Tripping lightly along,
O'er grass new mown,
Takes she her careless way,
Fresh as the leafy May,
Fair as the crystal spray,
And she's alone.
Sporting on her red lip
A fairy smile,
Like the bird and bee doth sip,
And pause awhile;
Whirling its rapid flight,
Flashing a rainbow light,
Seen now, now lost to sight, -
My heart doth wile.
Under the beechen shade
I watch and sigh,
Trembling to meet the maid,
I know not why.
Smiling away my heart,
Artfully, without art,
Playing the coquette's part,
She trips me by.
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