Sip its poison and you die!
But hie thee to the lavender,
Pretty little pilferer!
Or the limetree, in whose breast
You oft have sipped yourself to rest.
Go, wanderer, to the healthful wild,
By the heath-flower's bloom beguiled,
Where sunshine, like a robe of gold,
Flings its fond light o'er wood and wold;
There, in the calyx of the flower,