Then down he sat and whirled the wheel,
Hum, and hum-m, and hum-m-m;
Round and round with a droning sound,
Many a yellow spool he wound,
Many a glistening skein he reeled;
And still, like bees in a clover-field,
The wheel went hum, and hum-m and hum-m-m.
Next morning the king came,
Almost before sunrise,
To the chamber where the maiden was,