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Does anyone seek the soul of mirth,

Let him hie in the greenwood tree,

And there, beneath the verdant shade,

The bloom of the summer see;

For there sing the birds right merrily,

And there will be the bounding heart upspring

To the lofty clouds on joyful wing.

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On the hedgerows spring a thousand flowers,

And he, from whose heart sweet May

Hath banished care, finds many a joy,

And I, too, would be gay,

Were the load of pining care away;

Were my lady kind, my soul were light,

Joy crowning joy would raise its flight.

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The flowers, leaves, hills, the vale, and mead,

And May with all its light,

Compared with the roses, are pale indeed,

Which my lady bears; and bright

My eyes will shine, as they meet my sight,

Those beautiful lips of rosy hue,

As red as the rose just steeped in dew.

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