I

Hotly burns the amaryllis, Starred with ruby red: Coolly stand the snowy lilies In the lily-bed: Emerald gleams the wild May-apple, ’Neath its parasol, And where gold the sunbeams dapple Woods, and thrushes call, Marion strolls with Moll, Singing, “Fol-de-rol; Fol-de, fol-de-rol.