As it beat in the nests that their mothers had made.
"And in springtime sweet faces,
Of myriad graces,
Came beaming and gleaming from flowery places.
And under my grateful and joy-giving shade,
With cheeks like primroses, the little ones played;
And the sunshine in showers,
Through all the bright hours,
Bound their flowery ringlets with silvery braid.
"And the lightning