The Book of Scottish Song/Sweet May

Sweet May.

[Patrick Maxwell.—Air, "Miss Graham of Inchbrachie."]

Sweet May! sweet May! revives again
The buds and blossoms of the year;
And, clad anew, each hill and plain
In emerald green appear.
How bright the view from yonder bank,
Of primroses and daisies fair,
Where high o'er head the joyous lark
Makes vocal all the air;
And round and round the spangled mead
The bounding lambkins frisk and play,
And little rills, like living light,
Gleam in the sunny ray.

But what were nature's fairest scenes,
Though graced with a' her gayest flowers,
Unless we loved, unless we felt,
One fond, fond heart, were ours!
Then come, my own dear Mary, come.
My all on earth I prize most dear;
And in yon blooming hawthorn shade,
The glowing landscape near,
I'll tell to thee my hopes and fears,
And all my heart to thee confess,
And if thou giv'st me love for love,
I'll own no higher bliss.

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