My best beloved, the Spring is fair,
The woods are green and life is good,
Come out with me and let us tread
By field and fold and sweet wet wood —
The wind-flower blanches all the copse,
With hyacinth the hedge is blue,
And every wakened leaf is fair,
But not so fair as you!
The black-birds sing on hazel boughs
Beneath the overarching trees,
The cuckoo's distant song is borne
Across the meadow by the breeze,
The thrush's song is sweetest far
But saddens as the hours go by.
You hear? The nightingale's in love,
But not so much as I!