The morning air is richly rife
With southern soft perfumes;
Yon orchard glows with sudden blush
Of mingled buds and blooms;
The madrigals of wooing birds
Awaken amorous Spring,
And " Jennie Moore, sweet Jennie Moore "
Is all the song they sing.

Glad Yalobusha's rippling waves
Repeat the darling name;
The zephyr lost among the pines
Dies murmuring the same;
And when the hush of twilight steals
Along the dreamy shore,
The blissful silence to my heart
Still sings of Jennie Moore.