Now we hear the Spring's sweet voice Singing gladly through the world; Bidding all the earth rejoice. All is merry in the field, Flowers grow amidst the grass, Blossoms blue, red, white they yiels. As I seek my maiden true, Sings the little lark on high Fain to send her praises due. As I climb and reach her door, Ah! I see a rival there, So farewell! For evermore. Ever true was I to thee. Never grieved or vexed thee, love, False, oh! False, art thou to me. Now amid the forest green, Far from cruel eyes that mock Will I dwell unloved, unseen.