Page:The Tricolour, Poems of the Irish Revolution.djvu/79



is the son of the white morning singing, Combing her silken hair's simmer of gold, All of her slenderness wrapped in a gossamer Green of the dawning sky, dear to behold.

“When the lime is in blossom the bees are busy, Summer has come with her honey-sweet mouth; The lime is in bloom and the hive it is silent, Come little bees from the North and the South!

”Gather your store when the red sun is shining, Gather the harvest so that you may feast, The hive is nigh empty, the Queen she is weeping, Come little bees from the West and the East.“