Hast thou heard the turtle dove, 
When the woods are green,
Singing to his mate of love,
All his heart may mean?
So with words as sweet as birds
Softly I’d condole,
Sing for thee, sigh for thee,
My dear soul!

Hast thou hear the robin red,
In the yellow fall,
Singing, though the flow’rs be fled,
And the north winds call?
So I’d come, when skies are glum,
When the rains do roll,
Cherish thee, comfort thee,
My dear soul!

Hast thou heard the nightingale,
In the summer dark,
Singing down the silent vale,
Ne’er a one to hark?
So I’d bide, when from thy side
Light and joy be stole,
Live for thee, die for thee,
My dear soul!