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I have been sporting too,
Where spring my favorite flowers,
Among the lilies fresh with dew,
Among the vine-clad bowers,
And by yon crystal stream,
Where droops the willow tree,
I sweetly slept, and had a dream,
A pleasant dream of thee.
And music all around
Was breathing when I woke,
From nest, and branch, and rose-deck'd bound,
And from my lips it broke.
Why does thy bosom beat?
Hath aught disturb'd thy peace?
Dear Lamb! have brambles torn thy feet,
Or rent thy snowy fleece?
Come! I can soothe thy pain,
If thou wilt tell me free,
And lull thee with that cooing strain,
The young Dove taught to me.
