Sweet, sweet, sweet!
High up in the budding vine
I've woven and hidden a dainty retreat
For this little brown darling of mine!
Along the garden borders,
Out of the rich dark mold,
The daffodils and jonquils
Are pushing their heads of gold;
And high in her bower-chamber
The little brown mother sits,
While to and fro, as the west winds blow,
Her pretty shadow flits.

Weet, weet, weet!
Safe in the branching vine,
Pillowed on woven grasses sweet,
Our pearly treasures shine;
And all day long in the sunlight,
By vernal breezes fanned,
The daffodil and the jonquil
Their jeweled discs expand;
And two and fro, as the west winds blow,
In the airy house a-swing,
The feeble life in the pearly eggs
She warms with brooding wing!

Sweet, sweet, sweet!
Under a flowery spray
Downy heads and little pink feet
Are cunningly tucked away!
Along the shining furrows,
The rows of sprouting corn
Flash in the sun, and the orchards
Are blushing red as morn;
And the time o' the year for toil is here,
And idle song and play
With the jonquils, and the daffodils,
Must wait for another May.