Come, let us find a cottage, love, 
That's green for half a mile around; 
To laugh at every grumbling bee, 
Whose sweetest blossom's not yet found. 
Where many a bird shall sing for you, 
And in your garden build its nest: 
They'll sing for you as though their eggs 
Were lying in your breast, 
My love-- 
Were lying warm in your soft breast. 

'Tis strange how men find time to hate, 
When life is all too short for love; 
But we, away from our own kind, 
A different life can live and prove. 
And early on a summer's morn, 
As I go walking out with you, 
We'll help the sun with our warm breath 
To clear away the dew, 
My love, 
To clear away the morning dew.