Does any one seek the soul of mirth,
Let him hie to the greenwood tree;
And there, beneath the verdant shade,
The bloom of the summer see;
For there sing the birds right merrily,
And there will the bounding heart upspring,
To the lofty clouds, on joyful wing.

On the hedgerows spring a thousand flowers,
And he, from whose heart sweet May
Hath banish'd care, finds many a joy;
And I, too, would be gay,
Were the load of pining care away;
Were my lady kind, my soul were light,
Joy crowning joy would raise its flight -

The flowers, leaves, hills, the vale, and mead,
And May with all its light,
Compar'd with the roses are pale indeed,
Which my lady bears; and bright
My eyes will shine as they meet my sight
Those beautiful lips of rosy hue,
As red as the rose just steep'd in dew.