Blithe was each valley, and each shepherd proud, While he did chant his rural minstrelsy: Attentive was full many a dainty ear, Nay, hearers hung upon his melting tongue, While sweetly of his Fairy Queen he sung; While to the waters' fall he tun'd for fame, And in each bark engrav'd Eliza's name:

Cheerily, | cheerily, | insect, sing; Blithe be thy | notes in the | hickory; Every | bough shall an | answer ring, Sweeter than | trumpet of | victory.

so blithe and you and I Must be gatherers for all.