And what a rich green mantle, see,
The earth is now arraying:
Bright lilies and narcissus fair,
Than robes of Israel’s king more rare,
Their beauties are displaying.
The thrilling lark ascends the sky,
The dove forsakes her tower on high,
Swift to the woods retiring;
The richly-gifted nightingale
Pours forth her notes o’er hill and vale,