The Mummers' Dance
When in the springtime of the yearWhen the trees are crowned with leavesWhen the ash and oak, and the birch and yewAre dressed in ribbons fairWhen owls call the breathless moonIn the blue veil of the nightThe shadows of the trees appearAmidst the lantern lightWe've been rambling all the nightAnd some time of this dayNow returning back againWe bring a garland gayWho will go down to those shady grovesAnd summon the shadows thereAnd tie a ribbon on those sheltering armsIn the springtime of the yearThe songs of birds seem to fill the woodThat when the fiddler playsAll their voices can be heardLong past their woodland daysAnd so they linked their hands and dancedRound in circles and in rowsAnd so the journey of the night descendsWhen all the shades are gone"A garland gay we bring you hereAnd at your door we standIt is a sprout well budded outThe work of Our Lord's hand"