Slow Signal Fade ebooks

Sweet the lark's wild warbled lay,
Sweet the tinkling rill to hear;
But, Delia, more delightful still,
Steal thine accents on mine ear.
The flower-enamour'd busy bee
The rosy banquet loves to sip;
Sweet the streamlet's limpid lapse
To the sun-brown'd Arab's lip.
But, Delia, on thy balmy lips
Let me, no vagrant insect, rove;
O let me steal one liquid kiss,
For Oh! my soul is parch'd with love.


The Gard'ner Wi' His Paidle
Tune--"The Gardener's March."

When rosy May comes in wi' flowers,
To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers,
Then busy, busy are his hours,
The Gard'ner wi' his paidle.
The crystal waters gently fa',
The merry bards are lovers a',
The scented breezes round him blaw--
The Gard'ner wi' his paidle.
When purple morning starts the hare
To steal upon her early fare;
Then thro' the dews he maun repair--
The Gard'ner wi' his paidle.
When day, expiring in the west,
The curtain draws o' Nature's rest,
He flies to her arms he lo'es the best,
The Gard'ner wi' his paidle.


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