Sweet wind, fair wind, where have you been?

“I’ve been sweeping the cobwebs out of the sky;

I’ve been grinding a grist in the mill hard by;

I’ve been laughing at work while others sigh;

Sweet rain, soft rain, what are you doing?

“I’m urging the corn to fill out its cells;

I’m helping the lily to fashion its bells;

I’m swelling the torrent and brimming the wells;

Redbreast, redbreast, what have you done?

“I’ve been watching the nest where my fledglings lie;

I’ve sung them to sleep with a lullaby;

By and by I shall teach them to fly,

Honeybee, honeybee, where are you going?

“To fill my basket with precious pelf;

To toil for my neighbor as well as myself;

To find out the sweetest flower that grows,

Be it a thistle or be it a rose,—