The lilies are wet with the dew--the sunbeams with a kiss
gently touch the flower of the roses.--O the garden is rich of
scent--is bright of hue.--Arise Feronia and weave the garland
even now to braid thy ravenlike hair, lest at mid-day the sun
should spoil the flowers.--In the sky there is a little cloud,
gentle whisperings come with the gale--they tell of rain or
snow.--Arise Feronia and carefully weave the garland to bind up
thy hair, lest the threatening storm should come.
* * * * *