Over the fields of millet
A young bird tries its wings;
And sweet as a woodland rillet,
Its first wild music rings —
Soul of my soul, where the meadows roll
What is the song it sings?
“Love, and a glad good-morrow,
Heart where the rapture is!
Good-morrow, good-morrow!
Adieu to sorrow!
Here is the road to bliss:
Where all day long you may hearken my song,
And kiss, kiss, kiss!”
Over the fields of clover,
Where the wild bee drones and sways,
The wind, like a shepherd lover,
Flutes on the fragrant ways —
Heart of my heart, where the blossoms part,
What is the air he plays?
“Love, and a song to follow,
Soul with the face a-gleam!
Come follow, come follow,
O'er hill and o'er hollow,
To the land o’ the bloom and beam;
Where under the flowers you may listen for hours,
And dream, dream, dream!”