I seek her in the shady grove,
     And by the silent stream;
     I seek her where my fancies rove,
     In many a happy dream;
     I seek her where I find her not,
     In Spring and Summer weather:
     My thoughts paint many a happy spot,
     But we ne'er meet together.

     The trees and bushes speak my choice,
     And in the Summer shower
     I often hear her pleasant voice,
     In many a silent hour:
     I see her in the Summer brook,
     In blossoms sweet and fair;
     In every pleasant place I look
     My fancy paints her there.

     The wind blows through the forest trees,
     And cheers the pleasant day;
     There her sweet voice is sure to be
     To lull my cares away.
     The very hedges find a voice,
     So does the gurgling rill;
     But still the object of my choice
     Is lost and absent still.

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