With golden flowers and verdure clear;
To stretch her carpet far and near
Of soft green moss o’er stone and wall;
Ye maides in waiting all be here
Of Summertide, to deck her hall.
Hearts that but late were cold and drear
Now (prais’d be God!), their joy recall;
Come, come away, with snow-wrapped pall!
Out on thee, Winter, old and blear!
Ye maides in waiting all be here...