The merry Spring, the bright, bright Spring,
What joys she shakes from her flowery wing!
When the young bird sings from its leafy nest,
How happy it sleeps on its loved one’s breast;
How sweet to roam at beauty’s side,
Through glens and dells and woodlands wide;
How sweet to sit by a fountain clear,
And whisper love to a maiden’s ear!
O! the merry Spring! the bright, bright Spring,
What joys she shakes from her flowery wing!
 
At merry morn, or evening still,
How sweet to roam by the balmy hill,
To cull a wreath of flowerets rare,
To twine 'mid the locks of a maiden’s hair;
How sweet to fly from care and strife, .
And the dull cold round of city life,
To stray thro’ wood and shady grove,
And plight our troth to the maid we love!
O! the merry Spring, the bright, bright Spring,
What joys she shakes from her flowery wing!

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