William Blake

The Birds

He. Where thou dwellest, in what grove, Tell me Fair One, tell me Love; Where thou thy charming nest dost build, O thou pride of every field! She. Yonder stands a lonely tree, There I live and mourn for thee; Morning drinks my silent tear, And evening winds my sorrow bear. He. O thou summer's harmony, I have liv'd and mourn'd for thee; Each day I mourn along the wood, And night hath heard my sorrows loud. She. Dost thou truly long for me? And am I thus sweet to thee? Sorrow now is at an end, O my Lover and my Friend! He. Come, on wings of joy we'll fly To where my bower hangs on high; Come, and make thy calm retreat Among green leaves and blossoms sweet.

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