Not a sound betrays her starting,
Not a sound betrays her lighting
In the birches by the wayside,
In her favoured place for budding.
When the twilight turns to darkness,
When the fox’s bark is sounding,
From her buds the Partridge hastens,
Seeks the soft snow by the hazels,
Burrows in its sheltering masses,
Burrows where no Owl can find her.