Chloris.

Air - "My lodging is on the cold ground."


I.

    My Chloris, mark how green the groves,
        The primrose banks how fair:
    The balmy gales awake the flowers,
        And wave thy flaxen hair.

II.

    The lav'rock shuns the palace gay,
        And o'er the cottage sings;
    For nature smiles as sweet, I ween,
        To shepherds as to kings

III.

    Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' string
        In lordly lighted ha':
    The shepherd stops his simple reed,
        Blythe, in the birken shaw.

IV.

    The princely revel may survey
        Our rustic dance wi' scorn;
    But are their hearts as light as ours,
        Beneath the milk-white thorn?

V.

    The shepherd, in the flow'ry glen,
        In shepherd's phrase will woo:
    The courtier tells a finer tale -
        But is his heart as true?

VI.

    These wild-wood flowers I've pu'd, to deck
        That spotless breast o' thine:
    The courtier's gems may witness love -
        But 'tis na love like mine.