Rosy red the hills appear
With the light of morning,
Beauteous clouds, in aether clear,
All the east adorning;
White through the mist the meadows shine
Wake, my love, my Valentine!

For thy locks of raven hue,
Flowers of hoar-frost pearly,
Crocus-cups of gold and blue,
Snow-drops drooping early,
With Mezereon sprigs combine
Rise, my love, my Valentine!

O'er the margin of the flood,
Pluck the daisy peeping;
Through the covert of the wood,
Hunt the sorrel creeping;
With the little celandine
Crown my love, my Valentine.

Pansies, on their lowly stems
Scatter'd o'er the fallows;
Hazel-buds with crimson gems,
Green and glossy sallows;
Tufted moss and ivy-twine,
Deck my love, my Valentine.

Few and simple flow'rets these;
Yet, to me, less glorious
Garden-beds and orchard-trees!
Since this wreath victorious
Binds you now for ever mine,
O my Love, my Valentine.