And colour the grey eastern sky
With its blended hues of saffron and lake,
Then we say to each other, "Awake, Awake!
For our winter's honey is all to make,
And our bread for a long supply."
Then off we hie to the hill and the dell,
To the field, the wild wood and bower;
In the columbine's horn we love to dwell,
To dip in the lily with snow-white bell.
To search the balm in its odorous cell,