As it fell upon a day in the merry month of May, sitting in a pleasant shade which a grove of myrtles made.

As it fell upon a day In the merry month of May, Sitting in a pleasant shade Which a grove of myrtles made.

Gardens are not made by singing 'Oh, how beautiful,' and sitting in the shade.

It was all the shade I had, and now it's gone. I can't believe it fell.

He that is thy friend indeed, he will help thee in thy need: if thou sorrow, he will weep; if you wake, he cannot sleep; thus of every grief in heart he with thee doth bear a part.

If music and sweet poetry agree.