Spirit of the summer breeze!
Wherefore sleep’st thou in the trees?
Come, and kiss the maiden rose,
That on Marian’s bosom blows!
Come, and fawn about her hair!
Kiss the fringes of her eyes!
Ask her why she looks so fair,
When she heedeth not my sighs?
Tell her, murmuring summer air,
That her beauty’s all untrue;
Tell her, she should not seem fair,
Unless she be gentle too!