I
The sun, with his great eye,
Sees not so much as I;
And the moon, all silver-proud,
Might as well be in a cloud.
II

And O the spring--the spring
I lead the life of a king!
Couch'd in the teeming grass,
I spy each pretty lass.
III

I look where no one dares,
And I stare where no one stares,
And when the night is nigh,
Lambs bleat my lullaby.