8

8I praise the tender flower,That on a mournful dayBloomed in my garden bowerAnd made the winter gay.Its loveliness contentedMy heart tormented.I praise the gentle maidWhose happy voice and smileTo confidence betrayedMy doleful heart awhile:And gave my spirit deploringFresh wings for soaring.The maid for very fearOf love I durst not tell:The rose could never hear,Though I bespake her well:So in my song I bind themFor all to find them.

I praise the tender flower,That on a mournful dayBloomed in my garden bowerAnd made the winter gay.Its loveliness contentedMy heart tormented.I praise the gentle maidWhose happy voice and smileTo confidence betrayedMy doleful heart awhile:And gave my spirit deploringFresh wings for soaring.The maid for very fearOf love I durst not tell:The rose could never hear,Though I bespake her well:So in my song I bind themFor all to find them.

I praise the tender flower,That on a mournful dayBloomed in my garden bowerAnd made the winter gay.Its loveliness contentedMy heart tormented.

I praise the tender flower,

That on a mournful day

Bloomed in my garden bower

And made the winter gay.

Its loveliness contented

My heart tormented.

I praise the gentle maidWhose happy voice and smileTo confidence betrayedMy doleful heart awhile:And gave my spirit deploringFresh wings for soaring.

I praise the gentle maid

Whose happy voice and smile

To confidence betrayed

My doleful heart awhile:

And gave my spirit deploring

Fresh wings for soaring.

The maid for very fearOf love I durst not tell:The rose could never hear,Though I bespake her well:So in my song I bind themFor all to find them.

The maid for very fear

Of love I durst not tell:

The rose could never hear,

Though I bespake her well:

So in my song I bind them

For all to find them.

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