1 The flowers are blooming everywhere,
On every hill and dale;
And O, how beautiful they are,
How sweetly do they smell!
The little brooks, they dance along,
And look so glad and gay,
I love to hear their pleasant song,
And feel as glad as they.
2 The young lambs bleat and frisk about,
The bees hum round the hive,
The butterflies are coming out;--
'Tis good to be alive.
See yonder bird spread out his wings,
And mount the clear blue skies,
And hark! how merrily he sings,
As far away he flies.
3 Then I'll go forth, and laugh, and play,
And let my cheerful voice,
With fields, and brooks, and merry May,
Aloud, aloud rejoice.
I would not check my bounding mirth,
Nor feel the least alloy,
For He who made the blooming earth,
Delights to see our joy.