MORNING INVITATION.

———

BY THE PRIVATE SCHOLAR.

———

Let us go to the dewy mountain, love,

’Tis the time of the Maying weather;

The lark is up in the blue above,

The thrush in the briery heather;

From the cottage elm the robin calls —

List, love, to the gentle warning —

We’ll away to the mountain waterfalls,

And drink the dew of the morning.

Let us go to the tangled greenwood fair,

The scented buds invite us;

The young red deer will gambol there,

And a thousand songs delight us.

Thy hand in mine, and mine in thine,

In the wood-path we will linger,

Where the dew is bright on the eglantine,

As the jewel on thy finger.

Let us go to the moor and the virgin lake —

I hear the call of the plover;

And the fisherman’s song comes over the brake,

With the perfume of the clover.

A bonny boat with a pennon gay,

Like a nymph on the blue is sleeping —

To the fairy lake, oh, let us away,

While the sun from the hills is peeping.

Let us go to the upland airy lea,

Where the silent flocks are browsing;

We’ll pass the dale where the honey-bee

His early store is housing.

Our path shall lead through the meadow lane,

Its daisy blooms will meet us;

And the reed-pipe strain on the distant plain,

With the herd-boy’s song will greet us.

Let us go abroad at the early dawn,

With the blue sky bending o’er us;

While the mingled music of grove and lawn

Goes up in a grateful chorus;

For sweet is the breath of the morning, love,

And sweet are the opening flowers;

And sweet shall our communion prove,

In the fields and woodland bowers.

Let us go while Nature’s holy strain,

O’er the joyous earth is pealing;

My pulse has caught its youth again,

And throbs with the rural feeling.

Each bird, and brook, and dripping bud,

Invites with a gentle warning;

Then let us away to the field and wood,

And drink the health of the morning.