Blow, wind, blow,
The fields are white with snow —
Sleeping daisies, deep and warm,
Cannot hear the Winter storm.
Freeze, air, freeze,
The rime is on the trees —
Sleeping buds within the bough,
Dream of spring and cuckoos now.
Turn, earth, turn,
The flames of life do burn —
Sleeping girl, my baby dove,
Knows no world but mother's love.