When the hurtling tempests blow.
We nod to the sun ere the glimmering morn
Prints her sandals on the mere;
We part with the sun when the stars are borne
By the silvery waters clear.
And when lovers are breathing a thousand vows,
With their hearts and cheeks aglow,
We chant a love strain 'mid our breezy boughs,
Of a thousand years ago!
We stand all aloof, for the giant's strength