The Gay Garland

How sweet are the flowers,
That grows by yon fountain,
And sweet are the cowslips,
That spangle the grove,
And sweet is the breeze,
That blows over the mountains,
But sweeter by far,
Is the lad that I love.

I?ll weave a gay garland,
A fresh blooming garland
With lilies and roses
And sweet blooming posies,
To give to the lad,
My heart tell?s me love.

It was down in the vale,
Where the sweet Forza gliding
In murmuring streams,
Ripples thro? the dark grove,
I own?d what I felt,
All my passions confiding,
To ease the fond sighs,
Oh the lad that I love.