Rabbit's-fur and missel-down,
Woven in your magic way which no one ever varies,
Worn in earthy hidey-holes till
Spring comes round!
Got your summer smocks on! Be clad no more in russet!
All the flow'rs are fashion-plates and fabrics for your wear—
Gold and silver gossamer,
Webs, from every blossomer,
Fragrant and so delicate (with neither seam nor gusset),
Filmily you spin them, but they will not tear!