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1. Evaluation in OD provides information to
a. assess the long-term results of OD interventions
b. implement change programs
c. assess a manager's style
d. improve task preparation
ANSWER: a
POINTS: 1
DIFFICULTY: Easy
LEARNING OBJECTIVES: ODAC.CUMM.15.09.01 - 09.01
NATIONAL STANDARDS: United States - BUSPROG: Analytic
STATE STANDARDS: United States - NONE - DISC: Group Dynamics - Group Dynamics
TOPICS: A-head: Evaluating Organizational Development Interventions
KEYWORDS: Bloom's: Knowledge
2. Understanding how an intervention is progressing is an example of feedback.

a. intervention
b. implementation
c. evaluation
d. personal
ANSWER: b
POINTS: 1
DIFFICULTY: Easy
3. When should you identify the measurement variables to be used for evaluation and feedback?
a. diagnosis stage
b. intervention stage
c. implementation stage
d. evaluation stage
ANSWER: a
POINTS: 1
DIFFICULTY: Easy
4. Which data collection method accurately measures all the variables important to OD?
a. questionnaires
b. interviews
c. observations
d. none of the above
ANSWER: d
POINTS: 1
DIFFICULTY: MODERATE
KEYWORDS: Bloom's: Comprehension
5. In assessing the internal validity of an intervention, we

a. consider its reliability
b. test a hypothesis
c. consider alternative hypotheses
d. try to determine if certain changes cause certain outcomes
ANSWER: d
POINTS: 1
6. Which is not an intervention characteristic that affects institutionalization?

a. goal specificity
b. internal support
c. programmability
d. worker satisfaction
ANSWER: d
POINTS: 1
TOPICS: A-head: Institutionalizing Organizational Changes
7. As institutionalization follows a developmental order, which indicator represents the highest degree of
institutionalization?
a. knowledge
b. values consensus
c. norms
d. performance
ANSWER: b
POINTS: 1
8. Typically, OD interventions offer specific prescriptions to change interpersonal behaviors and ways of thinking about
organizations.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
POINTS: 1
9. Assessment intended to discover intervention outcomes is called implementation feedback.

a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
POINTS: 1
10. Evaluating OD interventions always involves measuring their impact on employee satisfaction, productivity, and the
bottom line.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
POINTS: 1
11. Reliability refers to whether a particular measure actually measures what it is supposed to measure.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
POINTS: 1
12. Standardized surveys are reliable, valid and provide accurate information on specific situations occurring in
organizations.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
POINTS: 1
13. External validity is irrelevant without internal validity.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
POINTS: 1
14. Socialization is the most important institutionalization process.

a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
POINTS: 1
DIFFICULTY: Easy
15. Job enrichment calls for adding discretion, variety, and meaningful feedback to people's jobs.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
POINTS: 1
DIFFICULTY: Easy
16. In most cases, the chosen intervention provides only general guidelines for organizational change.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
POINTS: 1
DIFFICULTY: Easy
17. What are the two kinds of feedback involved in evaluation and what do they tell us?
ANSWER: Answer not provided.

POINTS: 1
DIFFICULTY: Easy
18. What are the issues involved in measurement?

POINTS: 1
KEYWORDS: Bloom's: Analysis
19. Discuss setting up valid research designs.

POINTS: 1
KEYWORDS: Bloom's: Analysis
20. Define institutionalization and discuss specific institutionalization processes.

POINTS: 1
KEYWORDS: Bloom's: Application
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A beautiful thread, than a thread of sin.
THE FORTUNATE ISLES

By Joaquin Miller
You sail and you seek for the Fortunate Isles,

The old Greek Isles of the yellow bird’s song?
Then steer straight on through the watery miles,
Straight on, straight on and you can’t go wrong.
Nay not to the left, nay not to the right,
But on, straight on, and the Isles are in sight,
The Fortunate Isles where the yellow birds sing
And life lies girt with a golden ring.
These Fortunate Isles they are not so far,

They lie within reach of the lowliest door;
You can see them gleam by the twilight star;
You can hear them sing by the moon’s white shore—
Nay, never look back! Those leveled grave stones
They were landing steps; they were steps unto thrones
Of glory for souls that have sailed before,
And have set white feet on the fortunate shore.
And what are the names of the Fortunate Isles?

Why, Duty and Love and a large Content.
Lo! these are the Isles of the watery miles,
That God let down from the firmament.
Lo! Duty, and Love, and a true man’s Trust;
Your forehead to God though your feet in the dust;
Lo! Duty, and Love, and a sweet Babe’s Smiles,
And these, O friend, are the Fortunate Isles.
—Copyright by Harr Wagner Co., San Francisco, and used by kind

permission of author and publisher.
YOSEMITE
By Joaquin Miller
Sound! sound! sound!

O colossal walls and crown’d
In one eternal thunder!
Sound! sound! sound!
O ye oceans overhead,
While we walk, subdued in wonder,
In the ferns and grasses, under
And beside the swift Merced!
Fret! fret! fret!

Streaming, sounding banners, set
On the giant granite castles
In the clouds and in the snow!
But the foe he comes not yet,—
We are loyal, valiant vassals,
And we touch the trailing tassels
Of the banners far below.
Surge! surge! surge!

From the white Sierra’s verge,
To the very valley blossom.
Surge! surge! surge!
Yet the song-bird builds a home,
And the mossy branches cross them,
And the tasseled tree-tops toss them,
In the clouds of falling foam.
Sweep! sweep! sweep!

O ye heaven-born and deep,
In one dread, unbroken chorus!
We may wonder or may weep,—
We may wait on God before us;
We may shout or lift a hand,—
We may bow down and deplore us,
But may never understand.
Beat! beat! beat!
We advance, but would retreat
From this restless, broken breast
Of the earth in a convulsion.
We would rest, but dare not rest,
For the angel of expulsion
From this Paradise below
Waves us onward and ... we go.

THE DEAD MILLIONAIRE

By Joaquin Miller
The gold that with the sunlight lies

In bursting heaps at dawn,
The silver spilling from the skies
At night to walk upon,
The diamonds gleaming in the dew
He never saw, he never knew.
He got some gold, dug from the mud,

Some silver, crushed from stones.
The gold was red with dead man’s blood,
The silver black with groans;
And when he died he moaned aloud,
“There’ll be no pocket in my shroud.”

PETER COOPER
(Died 1883)
By Joaquin Miller
Give honor and love forevermore
To this great man gone to rest;
Peace on the dim Plutonian shore,
Rest in the land of the blest.
I reckon him greater than any man

That ever drew sword in war;
I reckon him nobler than king or khan,
Braver and better by far.
And wisest he in this whole wide land

Of hoarding till bent and gray;
For all you can hold in your cold dead hand
Is what you have given away.
So whether to wander the stars or to rest

Forever hushed and dumb,
He gave with a zest and he gave his best—
Give him the best to come.

THE VOICE OF THE DOVE

By Joaquin Miller
Come, listen, O Love, to the voice of the dove,

Come, hearken and hear him say:
“There are many To-morrows, my Love, my Love,
There is only one To-day.”
And all day long you can hear him say

This day in purple is rolled
And the baby stars of the milky-way
They are cradled in cradles of gold.
Now what is thy secret serene, gray dove,

Of singing so sweetly alway?
“There are many To-morrows, my Love, my Love,
There is only one To-day.”

WHERE THE WEST BEGINS

By Arthur Chapman
Out where the handclasp’s a little stronger,

Out where a smile dwells a little longer,
That’s where the West begins.
Out where the sun’s a little brighter,
Where the snow that falls is a trifle whiter,
Where the bonds of home are a wee bit tighter,
Out where the skies are a trifle bluer,

Out where friendship’s a little truer,
Out where a fresher breeze is blowing,
Where there is laughter in each streamlet flowing,
Where there’s more of reaping and less of sowing,
Out where the world is in the making,

Where fewer hearts with despair are aching,
Where there is more of singing and less of sighing,
Where there is more of giving and less of buying,
And a man makes friends without half trying—
AS I CAME DOWN FROM LEBANON

By Clinton Scollard
As I came down from Lebanon,

Came winding, wandering slowly down
Through mountain passes bleak and brown,
The cloudless day was well nigh done.
The city like an opal set
In emerald, showed each minaret
Afire with radiant beams of sun,
And glistened orange, fig, and lime,
Where song-birds made melodious chime,
As I came down from Lebanon.

Like lava in the dying glow,
Through olive orchards far below
I saw the murmuring river run;
And ’neath the wall upon the sand
Swart sheiks from distant Samarcand,
With precious spices they had won,
Lay long and languidly in wait
Till they might pass the guarded gate,

I saw strange men from lands afar,
In mosque and square and gay bazar,
The magi that the Moslem shun,
And grave effendi from Stamboul,
Who sherbet sipped in corners cool;
And, from the balconies o’errun
With roses, gleamed the eyes of those
Who dwell in still seraglios,

The flaming flower of daytime died,
And Night, arrayed as is a bride
Of some great king, in garment spun
Of purple and the finest gold,
Outbloomed in glories manifold,
Until the moon, above the dun
And darkening desert, void of shade,
Shone like a keen Damascus blade,
APPLE BLOSSOMS
By William Wesley Martin
Have you seen an apple orchard in the spring? in the spring?

An English apple orchard in the spring?
When the spreading trees are hoary
With their wealth of promised glory,
And the mavis pipes his story
In the spring?
Have you plucked the apple blossoms in the spring? in the spring?
And caught their subtle odors in the spring?
Pink buds bursting at the light,
Crumpled petals baby-white,
Just to touch them a delight!
In the spring!
Have you walked beneath the blossoms in the spring? in the spring?
Beneath the apple blossoms in the spring?
When the pink cascades were falling,
And the silver brooklets brawling,
And the cuckoo-bird is calling
In the spring?
Have you seen a merry bridal in the spring? in the spring?

In an English apple country in the spring?
When the brides and maidens wear
Apple blossoms in their hair:
Apple blossoms everywhere,
In the spring!
If you have not, then you know not, in the spring, in the spring,
Half the color, beauty, wonder of the spring.
No sight can I remember,
Half so precious, half so tender,
As the apple blossoms render
In the spring!
A MATCH
By A. C. Swinburne
If love were what the rose is,

And I were like the leaf,
Our lives would grow together
In sad or singing weather,
Blown fields or flowerful closes,
Green pastures or gray grief;
If love were what the rose is,
And I were like the leaf.
If you were queen of Pleasure,

And I were king of Pain,
We’d hunt down Love together,
Pluck out his flying-feather,
And teach his feet a measure,
And find his mouth a rein;
If you were queen of Pleasure;
And I were king of Pain.
THE BROOK AND THE WAVE

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The brooklet came from the mountain,

As sang the bard of old,
Running with feet of silver
Over the sands of gold!
Far away in the briny ocean

There rolled a turbulent wave
Now singing along the sea-beach,
Now howling along the cave.
And the brooklet has found the billow

Though they flowed so far apart,
And has filled with its freshness and sweetness
That turbulent bitter heart!
INDIRECTION
By Richard Realf
Fair are the flowers and the children, but their subtle suggestion is
fairer;
Rare is the roseburst of dawn, but the secret that clasps it is rarer;
Sweet the exultance of song, but the strain that precedes it is
sweeter;
And never was poem yet writ, but the meaning out-mastered the
meter.
Never a daisy that grows, but a mystery guideth the growing;

Never a river that flows, but a majesty scepters the flowing;
Never a Shakespeare that soared, but a stronger than he did enfold
him,
Nor ever a prophet foretells, but a mightier seer hath foretold him.
Back of the canvas that throbs the painter is hinted and hidden;
Into the statue that breathes the soul of the sculptor is bidden;
Under the joy that is felt lie the infinite issues of feeling;
Crowning the glory revealed is the glory that crowns the revealing.
Great are the symbols of being, but that which is symboled is
greater;
Vast the create and beheld, but vaster the inward creator;
Back of the sound broods the silence, back of the gift stands the
giving;
Back of the hand that receives thrill the sensitive nerves of receiving.
Space is as nothing to spirit, the deed is outdone by the doing;

The heart of the wooer is warm, but warmer the heart of the wooing;
And up from the pits where these shiver, and up from the heights
where those shine,
Twin voices and shadows swim starward, and the essence of life is
divine.
—Copyright by Funk & Wagnalls Co., New York, and used by kind
permission.
LIFE AND LOVE

By Richard Realf
There is something to live for and something to love

Wherever we linger, wherever we rove,
There are thousands of sad ones to cheer and sustain
Till hopes that were hidden beam o’er them again.
There is something to live for and something to love,

For the spirit of Man is like garden or grove,
It will yield a sweet fragrance, but still you must toil,
And cherish the blossoms, and culture the soil.
There is something to live for and something to love,

’Tis a truth which the misanthrope ne’er can disprove,
For tho’ thorns and thistles may choke up the flower,
Some beauty will grace the most desolate bower.
Then think on, brother, wherever thou art,

Let the life be for men and the love for the heart,
For know that the pathway which leads us above
Is something to live for and something to love.
permission.
SONG OF SPRING
By Richard Realf
My heart goes forth to meet the Spring

With the step of a bounding roe,
For it seems like the touch of a seraph’s wing
When the pleasant south winds blow.
O, I love the loveliness that lies

In the smiling heart of May,
The beauty throbbing in violet eyes,
The breath of the fragrant hay.
There’s a great calm joy in the song of birds,

And in the voice of the streams,
In the lowly peace of flocks and herds,
And our own soul’s quiet dreams.
So my heart goes forth to meet the Spring

As a lover to his bride;
And over us both there broods the wing
Of the angel at her side.
permission.
SONG OF THE SEAMSTRESS

By Richard Realf
It is twelve o’clock by the city’s chime,

And my task is not yet done;
Through two more weary hours of time
Must my heavy eyes ache on.
I may not suffer my tears to come,
And I dare not stop to feel;
For each idle moment steals a crumb
From my sad to-morrow’s meal.
It is very cold in this cheerless room,

And my limbs are strangely chill;
My pulses beat with a sense of doom,
And my very heart seems still;
But I shall not care for this so much,
If my fingers hold their power,
And the hand of sleep forbears to touch
My eyes for another hour.
I wish I could earn a little more,

And live in another street,
Where I need not tremble to pass the door,
And shudder at all I meet.
’Tis a fearful thing that a friendless girl
Forever alone should dwell
In the midst of scenes enough to hurl
A universe to hell.
God knows that I do not wish to sink

In the pit that yawns around;
But I cannot stand on its very brink,
As I could on purer ground;
I do not think that my strength is gone,
Nor fear for my shortening breath;
But the terrible winter is coming on,
And I must not starve to death.
I wish I had died with sister Rose,

Ere hunger and I were mates;
Ere I felt the grip of the thought that grows
The hotter the more it waits.
I am sure that He whom they curse to me,
The Father of all our race,
Did not mean the world He made to be
Such a dark and dreary place.
I would not mind if they’d only give

A little less meager pay,
And spare me a moment’s time to grieve,
With a little while to pray.
But until these far-off blessings come,
I may neither weep nor kneel;
For, alas! ’twould cost me a precious crumb
Of my sad to-morrow’s meal.
permission.
SONG OF THE INDIAN MOTHER

By James Gowdy Clark
Gently dream, my darling child,

Sleeping in the lonely wild;
Would thy dreams might never know
Clouds that darken mine with woe;
Oh! to smile as thou art smiling,
All my hopeless hours beguiling
With the hope that thou mightst see
Blessings that are hid from me.
CHORUS
Lullaby, my gentle boy,
Sleeping in the wilderness,
Dreaming in thy childish joy
Of a mother’s fond caress,—
Lullaby, lullaby.
Sleep, while gleams the council fire,
Kindled by thy hunted sire:
Guarded by thy God above,
Sleep and dream of peace and love:
Dream not of the band that perished
From the sacred soil they cherished,
Nor the ruthless race that roams
O’er our ancient shrines and homes.
Sleep, while autumn glories fly,

’Neath the melancholy sky,
From the trees before the storm,
Chased by winter’s tyrant form:
Oh! ’tis thus our warriors, wasted,
From their altars torn and blasted,
Followed by the storm of death,
Fly before Oppression’s breath.
Sleep, while night hides home and grave,

Rest, while mourn the suff’ring brave,
Mourning as thou, too, wilt mourn,
Through the future, wild and worn;
Bruised in heart, in spirit shaken,
Scourged by man, by God forsaken,
Wandering on in war and strife,
Living still, yet cursing life.
Could thy tender fancy feel

All that manhood will reveal,
Couldst thou dream thy breast would share
All the ills thy fathers bear,
Thou wouldst weep as I am weeping,
Tearful watches wildly keeping,
By the silver-beaming light
Of the long and lonely night.
(Repeat Chorus)
OLD TIMES
By Gerald Griffin
Old times! old times! the gay old times!

When I was young and free,
And heard the merry Easter chimes
Under the sally tree.
My Sunday palm beside me placed,
My cross upon my hand;
A heart at rest within my breast,
And sunshine on the land!
Old times! old times!
It is not that my fortunes flee,

Nor that my cheek is pale;
I mourn whene’er I think of thee,
My darling native vale!
A wiser head I have, I know,
Than when I loitered there;
But in my wisdom there is woe,
And in my knowledge care.
I’ve lived to know my share of joy,

To feel my share of pain;
To learn that friendship’s self can cloy,
To love and love in vain;
To feel a pang and wear a smile,
To tire of other climes;
To love my own unhappy Isle,
And sing the gay old times!
And sure the land is nothing changed;

The birds are singing still,
The flowers are springing where we ranged,
There’s sunshine on the hill.
The sally waving o’er my head
Still sweetly shades my frame;
But oh! those happy days are fled,
And I am not the same.
Oh, come again, ye merry times!

Sweet, sunny, fresh and calm;
And let me hear those Easter chimes,
And wear my Sunday palm.
If I could cry away mine eyes,
My tears would flow in vain;
If I could waste my heart in sighs,
They’ll never come again!
TWILIGHT FANCIES
By Eliza A. Pittsinger
Softly flit the fairy fancies

Through the sunlight of my brain,
Weaving webs of weird romances
In a laughing, joyous strain—
Gently creeping,
Gaily leaping,
Twilight revels strangely keeping
In my brain.
Ere the evening lamps are lighted,

While my soul is wrapt in thought,
Wait they not to be invited,
Quite unwelcome and unsought—
Never sitting,
Ever flitting,
All the earnestness outwitting
Of my thought.
Thus to have my being haunted
By these fairies, all astray,
By these elfin-sprites enchanted,
Is a spell upon my way,
That shall borrow
For the morrow,
All the pleasure and the sorrow
Of to-day.
In my hours of quiet musing,

By these phantoms thus caressed,
I have lost the right of choosing
As I ought, my favored guest—
Uninvited,
Often slighted,
Come they when the lamps are lighted
For a guest.
Thus they come, the fairy fancies,

Laughing, flitting through my brain,
Weaving webs of weird romances,
In a wayward, joyous strain—
Gaily creeping,
Madly leaping,
Even now their revels keeping
In my brain.
THE SONG OF THE FLUME[16]

By Anna M. Fitch
Awake, awake! for my track is red,

With the glow of the coming day;
And with tinkling tread, from my dusky bed,
I haste o’er hill away,
Up from the valley, up from the plain,
Up from the river’s side;
For I come with a gush, and a torrent’s rush,
And there’s wealth in my swelling tide.
I am fed by the melting rills that start

Where the sparkling snow-peaks gleam,
My voice is free, and with fiercest glee
I leap in the sun’s broad beam;
Tho’ torn from the channels deep and old,
I have worn through the craggy hill,
Yet I flow in pride, as my waters glide,
And there’s mirth in my music still.
I sought the shore of the sounding sea,

From the far Sierra’s height,
With a starry breast, and a snow-capped crest
I foamed in a path of light;
But they bore me thence in a winding way,
They’ve fettered me like a slave,
And as scarfs of old were exchanged for gold,
So they barter my soil-stained wave.
Thro’ the deep tunnel, down the dark shaft,

I search for the shining ore;
Hoist it away to the light of day,
Which it never has seen before.
Spade and shovel, mattock and pick,
Ply them with eager haste;
For my golden shower is sold by the hour,
And the drops are too dear to waste.
Lift me aloft to the mountain’s brow,

Fathom the deep “blue vein,”
And I’ll sift the soil for the shining spoil,
As I sink to the valley again.
The swell of my swarthy breast shall bear
Pebble and rock away,
Though they brave my strength, they shall yield at length,
But the glittering gold shall stay.
Mine is no stern and warrior march,
No stormy trump and drum;
No banners gleam in my darkened stream,
As with conquering step I come;
But I touch the tributary earth
Till it owns a monarch’s sway,
And with eager hand, from a conquered land,
I bear its wealth away.
Awake, awake! there are loving hearts

In the lands you’ve left afar;
There are tearful eyes in the homes you prize
As they gaze on the western star;
Then up from the valley, up from the hill,
Up from the river’s side;
For I come with a gush, and a torrent’s rush,
And there’s wealth in my swelling tide.
THE WEST
By Annie Elizabeth Cheney
Wings that are glancing, wings of my soul,

That speeding like arrows fly to their goal;
Wings that have cut the keen ethers above,
O carry me on to the West of my love!
The West it is magic, perspective and fire,

Its peaks are like daggers thrust up by desire;
It is Tyre, it is Sidon and Ophir in one,
This land by the waters, this land of the sun.
—From “Dreams of Hellas.”
THE MOON-CRADLE
By Kate Wisner M’Cluskey
The little, the yellow moon-cradle
Is swaying, is swinging slow;
And the tiny white star-tapers burning
Have flickered their lights down low;
The night has the cloud-curtains ready,
She is holding them draped on her breast,
For the dear little, queer little babe in the moon
Will have sunk to rest in the west.
Hush, baby, hush!
Mother’s heart aches for the joy that she takes
In holding you close to her breast!
Perhaps in the yellow moon-cradle

A little cold baby may be;
And the tiny white star-tapers burning
May be sad for some mother to see;—
O night-angel! drop the cloud-curtain
While the gleaming bed’s caught in that tree,
For not even to the rest in the beautiful west
Will I let my babe go from me!
Sleep, sleep, my sweet!
Are you warm, little feet?
Close to my heart you will be!
GREEN THINGS GROWING

By Dinah Maria Mulock
Oh, the green things growing, the green things growing,

The faint sweet smell of the green things growing!
I should like to live, whether I smile or grieve,
Just to watch the happy life of my green things growing.
Oh, the fluttering and the pattering of those green things growing.
How they talk each to each, when none of us are knowing
In the wonderful white of the weird moonlight
Or the dim, dreary dawn when the cocks are crowing.

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Organization Development and Change

9th Edition Cummings Test Bank

Organization Development and Change 10th Edition

Organization Development and Change 10th Edition

Cases and Exercises in Organization Development and

Organization Development The Process of Leading

Organization Change Theory and Practice 3rd Edition

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2. Understanding how an intervention is progressing is an example of feedback.

5. In assessing the internal validity of an intervention, we

6. Which is not an intervention characteristic that affects institutionalization?

9. Assessment intended to discover intervention outcomes is called implementation feedback.

14. Socialization is the most important institutionalization process.

ANSWER: Answer not provided.

18. What are the issues involved in measurement?

ANSWER: Answer not provided.

19. Discuss setting up valid research designs.

ANSWER: Answer not provided.

ANSWER: Answer not provided.

THE FORTUNATE ISLES

You sail and you seek for the Fortunate Isles,

These Fortunate Isles they are not so far,

And what are the names of the Fortunate Isles?

—Copyright by Harr Wagner Co., San Francisco, and used by kind

Sound! sound! sound!

Fret! fret! fret!

Surge! surge! surge!

Sweep! sweep! sweep!

—Copyright by Harr Wagner Co., San Francisco, and used by kind

THE DEAD MILLIONAIRE

The gold that with the sunlight lies

He got some gold, dug from the mud,

—Copyright by Harr Wagner Co., San Francisco, and used by kind

I reckon him greater than any man

And wisest he in this whole wide land

So whether to wander the stars or to rest

—Copyright by Harr Wagner Co., San Francisco, and used by kind

THE VOICE OF THE DOVE

Come, listen, O Love, to the voice of the dove,

And all day long you can hear him say

Now what is thy secret serene, gray dove,

—Copyright by Harr Wagner Co., San Francisco, and used by kind

WHERE THE WEST BEGINS

Out where the handclasp’s a little stronger,

Out where the skies are a trifle bluer,

Out where the world is in the making,

AS I CAME DOWN FROM LEBANON

As I came down from Lebanon,

As I came down from Lebanon,

As I came down from Lebanon,

As I came down from Lebanon,

Have you seen an apple orchard in the spring? in the spring?

Have you seen a merry bridal in the spring? in the spring?

If love were what the rose is,

If you were queen of Pleasure,

THE BROOK AND THE WAVE

The brooklet came from the mountain,