''Sing, sweet thrushes, forth and tsing! 

 Have you met the honey-bee 

 Circhng upon rapid wing 

 Round the angler's trysting-tree ? 



Up, sweet thrushes, up and see I 

 Are there bees at our willow tree ? 

 Birds and bees at the trysting-tree? 



" Sing, sweet thrushes, forth and sing ! 

 Are the fountains gushing free? 

 Is the south wind wandering 

 Through the angler's trysting-tree ? 

 Up, sweet thrushes, tell to me ! 

 Is there wind up our trysting-tree? 

 Wind or calm at our trysting-tree?" 

 Stoddaat, 



" And the pleasant watercourses 

 You could trace them through the valley, 

 By the rushing in the Spring-time, 

 By the alders in the Summer, 

 By the white fog in the Autumn, 

 By the black line in the Winter." 



Longfellow. 



