For works with similar titles, see Song.
SONG
"Solitude is sweet; but one needs ever a friend to whom one can say,
'How sweet is solitude!'"
'How sweet is solitude!'"
Merry it is in the grand old woods,
Where ferns and the mosses grow,
And oh! I wish in those solitudes,
I could wander the whole day through;
Yes, I would wander,—but not alone,
I would have some laughter to echo my own.
Where ferns and the mosses grow,
And oh! I wish in those solitudes,
I could wander the whole day through;
Yes, I would wander,—but not alone,
I would have some laughter to echo my own.
Sweet would the song of the wood-birds seem,
Hidden 'mid clustering leaves,
And tender the murmuring sound of the stream,
As one who rebels not, yet grieves;
But sweeter, I ween, and more tender would be
The vows I should hear 'neath the greenwood tree.
Hidden 'mid clustering leaves,
And tender the murmuring sound of the stream,
As one who rebels not, yet grieves;
But sweeter, I ween, and more tender would be
The vows I should hear 'neath the greenwood tree.
Solitude, solitude surely is sweet,
In the heart of the forest dim;
Where the pulses of life in the still air beat,
Like the cadence of a hymn;
But I'd rather have one whom I love to say
"How sweet is the solitude here to-day."
In the heart of the forest dim;
Where the pulses of life in the still air beat,
Like the cadence of a hymn;
But I'd rather have one whom I love to say
"How sweet is the solitude here to-day."