Amid the birdsong of the morn
We hear the chime of bells,
But none among the wise or learned
Can guess what it foretells.
Some say that dancing fairy-folk
Make music in their ring,
Some say it's only surly cows
Who miss the grass of Spring.
What woke us with its chiming bells
Was elf or maybe cow,
But matters not as much as this:
O what will we do now?