1.
I envy the bird within its rage,
Whose song to her is no denied,
His love for her he may assuage,
But song, and in her pressence may abide.
I envy the red rose in her hair;
The wand'ring breeze caressing her fair face;
But I, alas! can scarcely dare
To look upon her from my lowly place.

[REFRAIN sung after each verse]
The bird, the breeze, the heedless flow'r,
Can love her, she will not deny,
They by her side can dwell an hour,
And in their fashion softly sigh.
She welcomes to her maiden bow'r
The moonbeams, and the butterfly;
Nature's rovers are her lovers,
Yes, all, all can love her,
can love her, why not I!

2.
If I were a wand'ring zephyr light,
T'were sweet her snowy brow to kiss,
Were I a moonbeam shining bright
To touch her rosy lips should be my bliss.
But woe, woe is me, and sad my lot,
For it is very clear I'm none of these;
And so 'tis plain that I cannot
Be bold as the moonbeam or the breeze.

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