‘Here’s a nut, there’s a nut;

Gayly the wood-birds sing,Flowers are blooming fair.‘But, deep in the dark, cold rock,Sadly I dwell,Longing for thee, dear friend,Lily-Bell! Lily-Bell!’‘Through sunlight and summer airI have sought for thee long,Guided by birds and flowers,And now by thy song.‘Thistledown! Thistledown!O’er hill and dellHither to comfort theeComes Lily-Bell.’

Tous deux volaient, de branche en branche,Jusqu’au faîte de mon dongeon:Mais comme un coup de vent d’automne,S’est abattu là, l’épervier,Et ma colombe si mignonneNe revient plus au colombier.’

And sturdily wash, and rinse, and wring,And fasten the clothes to dry;Then out in the free fresh air they swing,Under the sunny sky.I wish we could wash from our hearts and our soulsThe stains of the week away,And let water and air by their magic makeOurselves as pure as they;Then on the earth there would…

For every bird will find its mate,And every lass a lad,

Where birds, and bees, and butterflies,Would sing upon the hill.’

High above the city’s tumult,Flocks of doves sit day by day.Shining necks and snowy bosoms,Little rosy, tripping feet,Twinkling eyes and fluttering wings,Cooing voices, low and sweet,-Graceful games and friendly meetings,Do I daily watch and see.For these happy little neighborsAlways seem at peace to be.On my window-ledge, to lure them,Crumbs of bread I often strew,And, behind…