To walk beside the river in the dawn
Is fair indeed when spring is in the breeze,
Bird-carollings, the mumbling hum of bees
Sing matins from the dew-bespangled lawn;
And dancing there behind those druid trees,
Lurks in delight a little singing faun,
Who laughs at us, and yet is always gone
When we would trace his scattered melodies.
Alone, dear love, with thee and the new day,
Now am I radiant like the golden fields,
No distant longing and no dim dismay,
Nought but the gladness that the hour yields.
To walk beside the river is most fair
When Love is young and spring is in the air!