We come again this festal day,
These woods and rocks to greet,
Beneath the cool thick shade away,
In mirth and joy to meet.
Forth now 'mid glens so wild and free,
The fragrant flowers among,
Or chase the butterfly and bee,
Or list the birds' sweet song.
Columbia's sons and daughters too!
With laugh and song make glad
These hills to-day, and never rue
The hour, nor time make sad.
Beneath the oak go trip the rope,
And swing in pleasant shade;
Or gather fruit, if thou wouldst hope
To eat the marmalade.
Across the meadows on yon lake,
Dip silently the oar,
Sweet music with the zither make,
While songs awake the shore.
In brooklets down the hillside green,
Where lives the speckled trout,
Your line drop in with cunning mien,
And reel the beauties out.
O'er clover fields in yonder dell,
From springs the water bring,
Nor stay the feast, but know ye well
The bell, when it shall ring.
Then round we'll sit the festal board,
The blessing of God invoke;
The mossy rocks shall seats afford,
Beneath the shady oak.