Two songs , opus 32

The year's a little older grown;
And fair white boughs by green ways blown,
In these new days, are no more known.
(Oh, who can bring the May again?)

And we are wiser grown, we two;
Our story's told, each word was true;
And you love me, And I love you.
(Oh, who can bring the May again?)

Was life not sweeter ere we knew?
Yet who, yet who, yet who can bring the May again.

Break forth, break forth o Sudb'ry town,
And bid your yards be gay;
Up all your gusty streets and down,
For Lydia comes today!

I hear it in the wharves below,
And if I buy or sell,
The good folk as they churchward go
Have only this to tell.

The violet flags are out once more,
In lanes salt with the sea;
The thornbush at St. Martin's door
Grows white for such as she.

So Sudb'ry bid your gardens blow;
For Lydia comes today;
Of all the words that I do know
I have but this to say:

Break forth, break forth O Sudb'ry town,
And bid your yards be gay.
Up all your gusty streets and down,
For Lydia comes today.

So Sudb'ry bid your gardens blow,
And bid your yards be gay;
Break forth, O Sudb'ry town,
For Lydia comes today.