Song Written by a Friend to His Wife in 1783
I love the jocund dance,
The softly-breathing song,
Where innocent eyes do glance,
And where lisps the maiden’s tongue.
I love the laughing vale,
I love the echoing rill,
Where mirth does never fail,
And the jolly swain laughs his fill.
I love the pleasant cot,
I love the innocent bower
Where white and brown is our pot
Or fruit in the mid-day hour.
I love the oaken seat,
Beneath the oaken tree,
Where all the old villagers meet,
And laugh our sports to see.
I love our neighbors all
But — Mary — I better love thee
And love them I ever shall,
But thou art all to me.
William