  Birds a-singing in the trees, Marigolds a-blowing; Bees a-humming what they please, Coming and a-going; Hiding in the hollyhocks, Swinging on the clover, Climbing up the Lily-stalks, Honey running over. Breath of roses in the air, Roses are in hiding; Breezes will not tell us where,— Winds are not confiding; Down the walks the children wind, Through the fence a-peeping; Like the bees and birds they find Treasures for the seeking. Little neighbors, like the birds, Sing and talk at pleasure; Like the bees, with honeyed words, Choose their time and measure; Like sweet peas they cling and climb, Here and there and yonder; All the pleasant summer-time They visit and they wander.
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