THE GREENWOOD

OH! when ’t is summer weather,
And the yellow bee, with fairy sound,
The waters clear is humming round,
And the cuckoo sings unseen,
And the leaves are waving green, —
Oh then ’t is sweet,
In some retreat,
To hear the murmuring dove,
With those whom on earth alone we love,
And to wind through the greenwood together.

But when ’t is winter weather,
And crosses grieve,
And friends deceive,
And rain and sleet
The lattice beat,—
Oh! then ’t is sweet,
To sit and sing
Of the friends with whom, in the days of Spring,
We roamed through the greenwood together.

William Lisle Bowles