In The Bud of The Morning-O, Op. 25, No. 6

In the scented bud of the morning O

When the windy grass went rippling far

I saw my dear one walking slow

In the field where the daisies are

We did not laugh, and we did not speak

As we wander'd happily to and fro

I kiss'd my dear on either cheek

In the bud of the morning O

A lark sang up from the breezy land

A lark sang down from a cloud afar

And she and I went hand in hand

In the field where the daisies are