English poem
ON A LADY's BIRTH DAY. W. M. SMITH
by Anonymous
Shepherds, shepherds, hither come! What, tho' lost the vernal bloom, What, tho' Winter rules the year, Yet the joys of Spring are here: Here we taste the sweets of May, On Eliza's natal day. Do we want the blushing rose? In Eliza's cheek it grows: See the cherry's tempting red O'er her dewy lips is spread; And the lily's ev'ry grace Is exceeded in her face.
Where's the fragrance of the vale? Where the music of the dale? Balmy is her breath as spring, Or the odour zephyrs bring: Soft as is a seraph's song, Is the music of her tongue.
Shepherds, then, the chorus join: Haste the festive wreath to twine: Come, with bosoms all sincere, Come with breasts devoid of care: Bring the pipe, and merry lay, 'Tis Eliza's natal day.