I'VE a Friend, a staunch Friend; listen, listen, Mary, mine! There's none such wherever Phoebus winds his airy line; When I rise at morn-time, -- ere the grass his dewy tears Dries away, she meets me, beckoning oft with wary sign, That I tread discreetly, while she shows how round about With marigolds and violets she has pranked her dairy fine, -- That the milk, fresh steaming, may be sweeter to my lips, Crowned with glowing blossoms, -- so too is it, faery mine! When at eve out-wearied I approach, she brings me down What her own white hands have pressed -- a flask of chary wine. There it is, -- the nectar! where then is the Friend I mean? Where but here, beside me? kiss me, bless me, Mary mine |