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150 SONGS, ETC. |
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" Deceptive fly shall ne'er be thrown, From honour's path to wile ;
Nor rankling seeds of sorrow sown, Nor honest heart beguile." |
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M A Y .
It was the charming month of May, When all the flow'rs were fresh and gay, One morning by the break of day, The youthful angler rose.
From peaceful slumbers he awoke, Girt on his basket, and he took A ramble down the stream, to look If in right angling trim.
The feather'd people you might see Perch'd all around on every tree, In sweetest notes of melody,
To hail the joyous youth. |
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X. Yt, 1816. |
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