The Song in the Wood

by William Browne
What sing the sweet birds in each grove?
Nought but love.
What sound our echoes day and night?
All delight.
What doth each wind breathe us that fleets?
Endless sweets.

Chorus.

Is there a place on earth this isle excells,
Or any nymphs more happy live than we.
When all our songs, our sounds, and breathings be
That here all love, delight, and sweetness dwells.
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English
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