To you, light troop, I bring,(You, who with wandering wingOver the wide world pass,And, when your murmurings wake,So sweetly trouble and shakeThe shadow-shaken grass)
I bring these violets,Lilies and flowerets,I bring these roses too;These roses rosy-redAre freshly gatherèd;These pinks I bring for you.
With your cool breath and sweetThis plain a-stir with heatIn passing fan, I pray;The while I labour soreAt my wheat-winnowing floorAbout the heat of day.
