I'll sing to you
A little song, with bird-notes all a-twitter,
With honey flowing
From tilted flower-cups with dew a-glitter,
With fireflies glowing;
And over it roses in knots, and myrtle,
As thickly lay
(And violets) as on a maiden's kirtle,
A holiday.
Sweetened all through with flowers, with which 'tis filled