III

Pipe, shepherds, pipe, the summer’ s ripe;

So wreathe your crooks with flowers;

The world’ s in tune to Love and June,

The days are rich in hours,

In rosy hours, in golden hours —

Love’ s crown and fortune fair,

So gather gold for Love to hold,

And flowers for Love to wear!

Sing, maidens, sing! A dancing ring

Of pleasures speed your way;

Too harsh and dry is fierce July,

Too maiden-meek was May;

But Love and June their old sweet tune

Are singing at your ear:

So learn the song and troop along

To meet your shepherds dear!

Oh, Chloris fair, a rose to wear,

And gold to spend have I —

When all are gay on this June day

You would not bid me sigh?

You would not scorn a swain forlorn —

Each shepherd far and near

Hastes to his sweet, with flying feet,

As I towards my dear.

No maids there be in Arcady

But have their shepherds true;

Must you alone despise the one

Who only pipes for you?

You have no ear my pipe to hear

Though all for you it be;

And I no eyes for her who sighs

And only sings for me!