Where'er she lives, where'er she grows,
The happy singer only knows,
He and the rising sun
That trembles through the glimmering flowers,
The dewy glades and leafy bowers,
To wake the pretty one.

Or e'er he moves her pure repose, —
(More tender-fair than fairest rose
A'laughing to be won),
A flitting shadow of surprise
Floats in the morning of her eyes,
Yet dreaming of the sun.

But, as the love-light warmer glows,
And brightly through her thrills and flows,
Soft petals, one by one,
Deep flushing from a maiden heart,
With all their fragrant treasure part,
Unfolding to the sun.

And where she lives, and where she grows,
The happy singer only knows,
He, and the rising sun
That folds her in his burning kiss,
And, stealing through her virgin bliss,
Awakes the pretty one.