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Does anyone seek the soul of mirth,
Let him hie in the greenwood tree,
And there, beneath the verdant shade,
The bloom of the summer see;
For there sing the birds right merrily,
And there will be the bounding heart upspring
To the lofty clouds on joyful wing.
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On the hedgerows spring a thousand flowers,
And he, from whose heart sweet May
Hath banished care, finds many a joy,
And I, too, would be gay,
Were the load of pining care away;
Were my lady kind, my soul were light,
Joy crowning joy would raise its flight.
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The flowers, leaves, hills, the vale, and mead,
And May with all its light,
Compared with the roses, are pale indeed,
Which my lady bears; and bright
My eyes will shine, as they meet my sight,
Those beautiful lips of rosy hue,
As red as the rose just steeped in dew.
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