A RIPPLE and a rush, and a mating thrash,
And, oh ! the month must be at May.
A blossom and a tree, and a honey-bee,
And, oh ! it's such a perfect day !

A meeting and a smile, and a sunlit mile.
And, oh ! the world is very young.
Come winter, storm or cold.
Love never can grow old.
And oh ! my little song is sung !