Grey woven hammock, a swaying berth, 

 Tossed by the winds the whole night long, 



Nothing more precious than you on earth, 

 For you are the cradle of song. 



Bright flying wings, fresh sun-bathed each hour, 

 Clear bubbling song, from golden throat, 



Oh the wonder, that you have power, 



To make June more glad with your gay note! 



58 



