Classic Poem

As little lambs lift up their snowy sides,
When mounting lark salutes the gray-eyed morn: Silvio:
As from the oaken leaves the honey glides,
Where nightingales record upon the thorn. Gemulo:
So rise my thoughts. Silvio:
So all my sense cheer Gemulo:
When she surveys my flocks, Silvio:
And she my dear. Gemulo:
Eurymine. Silvio:
Eurymine. Gemulo:
Come forth, Silvio:
Come forth, Gemulo:
Come forth and cheer these plains. Silvio:
The wood-man's love, Gemulo:
And lady of the swains.