Sweet Summer, Breathe Your Softest Gales To Charm My Lover'S Ear: Ye Zephyrs, Tell Your Choicest Tales Where'Er She Shall Appear; And Gently Wave The Meadow Grass Where Soft She Sets Her Feet, For My Love Is A Country Lass, And Bonny As SHe's Sweet. The Hedges Only Seem To Mourn, The Willow Boughs To Sigh, Though Sunshine O'Er The Meads Sojourn, To Cheer Me Where I Lie: The Blackbird In The Hedgerow Thorn Sings Loud His Summer Lay; He Seems To Sing, Both Eve And Morn, "She Wanders Here To-Day." The Skylark In The Summer Cloud One Cheering Anthem Sings, And Mary Often Wanders Out To Watch His Trembling Wings. * * * * * I'll Wander Down The River Way, And Wild Flower Posies Make, For Nature Whispers All The Day She Can't Her Promise Break. The Meads Already Wear A Smile, The River Runs More Bright, For Down The Path And O'Er The Stile The Maiden Comes In Sight. The Scene Begins To Look Divine; We'll By The River Walk. Her Arm Already Seems In Mine, And Fancy Hears Her Talk. A Vision, This, Of Early Love: The Meadow, River, Rill, Scenes Where I Walked With Mary Dove, Are In My Memory Still.