Her mouth with a smile

Her mouth with a smile, Devoid of all guile, Half opens to view, Is the bud of the rose, In the morning that blows, Impearl'd with the dew.

More fragrant her breath Than the flower-scented heath At the dawning of day; The hawthorn in bloom, The lily's perfume, Or the blossoms of May.

BY this fountain's flow'ry side, Dress'd in nature's blooming pride, Where the poplar trembles high, And the bees in clusters fly; Whilst the herdsman on the hill Listens to the falling rill. Pride and cruel scorn away, Let of share the festive day. Taste our pleasures ye who may, This is nature's holiday. Simple nature ye who prize, Life's fantastic forms despise.

Taste our pleasure's ye who may, This is nature's holiday.

Blushing Bell, with downcast eyes, Sighs, and knows not why she sighs; Tom is by her—we shall know— How he eyes her!—Is't not so?

Taste our pleasure's ye who may, This is nature's holiday.

He is fond and she is shy: He would kiss her!—fie! Oh, fie! Mind thy fickle, let her be; By and by she'll follow thee.

Busy censors, hence, away! This is nature's holiday.

Now we'll quaff the nut-brown ale, Then we'll tell the sportive tale; All is jest, and all is glee, All is youthful jollity.

Taste our pleasures ye who may, This is nature's holiday.

Lads and lasses, all advance, Carol blithe, and form the dance; Trip it lightly while you may, This is nature's holiday.

Trip it lightly while you may, This is nature's holiday.