I
When spring is here and Margery
Goes walking in the woods with me,
She is so white, she is so shy,
The little leaves clap hands and cry—
“Perdie;
So white is she, so shy is she,
Ah me!
The maiden May hath just passed by!”
II
When summer ’s here and Margery
Goes walking in the fields with me,
She is so pure, she is so fair,
The wildflowers eye her and declare—
“Perdie!
So pure is she, so fair is she,
Just see,
Where our sweet cousin takes the air!”
III
Why is it that my Margery
Hears nothing that these say to me?
She is so good, she is so true,
My heart it maketh such ado,
Perdie!
So good is she, so true is she,
You see,
She can not hear the other two.