SWEEPING down the hill-side, Stealing through the leaves, Dancing on the rill-tide, Sporting with its waves, Trippling by the fountain, Singing through the trees, And along the mountain, Comes the merry breeze.
Merry in the spring time, Joyous in the summer, When its zephyr wings chime With the brooklet's murmur, In rain and sunshine sporting, 'Mong flowery groves and trees, In every clime resorting, Is found the merry breeze.
