1.
I pass all my hours in a shady old grove,
But I live not a day when I see not my love,
I survey every walk now my Phyllis is gone,
And sigh when I think we were there all alone.
Chorus I:
‖: O then ’tis, O then, I think there’s no Hell,
Like loving, like loving too well. :‖
2.
But each shade, and each conscious bower when I find,
Where I once had been happy, and she had been kind,
When I see the print left of her shape in the green,
And imagine the pleasure may yet come again.
Chorus II:
‖: O then ’tis, O then, I think no joys above
The pleasures, the pleasures of love. :‖
3.
Whilst alone to myself I repeat all her charms,
She I love may be locked in another man’s arms,
She may laugh at my cares, and so false she may be,
To say all the kind things she before said to me:
Chorus I
4.
But when I consider the truth of her heart,
Such an innocent passion, so kind without art,
I fear I have wronged her, and so she may be
So full of true love to be jealous of me.
Chorus II