On Yonder Stile

On yonder stile, let's sit awhile, To hear the nightingale, The lazy moon, will get up soon, And silver o'er the vale; Ah, did you know the pangs I feel, I can no longer now conceal, The tender tale I must reveal, On yonder stile let's sit awhile To hear the nightingale, The lazy moon, will get up soon, And silver o'er the vale.

The golden sun his race has run, The linnet seeks her nest, The shepherd's care, all folded are, While he plods home to rest; Then let us Phoebe [William] onward move Unto the streamlet near the grove, And while I whisper o'er my love, On yonder stile let's sit awhile, And hear the nightingale, The lazy moon, will get up soon, And silver o'er the vale.