The daisies peep from every field,
And violets sweet their odor yield;
The purple blossom paints the thorn,
And streams reflect the blush of morn.
Then, lads and lasses all, be gay,
For this is nature's holiday.
Let lusty Labor drop his flail,
Nor woodman's hook a tree assail;
The ox shall cease his neck to bow,
And Clodden yield to rest the plough.
Then, lads, &c.
Behold the lark in ether float,
While rapture swells the liquid note!
What warbles he, with merry cheer?
"Let Love and Pleasure rule the year!"
Then, lads, &c.
Lo! Sol looks down with radiant eye,
And throws a smile around his sky;
Embracing hill, and vale, and stream,
And warming nature with his beam.
Then, lads, &c.
The insect tribes in myriads pour,
And kiss with zephyr every flower;
Shall these our icy hearts reprove,
And tell us we are foes to Love?
Then, lads, &c.