I saw a bride splendid in white garments
I saw a woman with one hundred children 
The children plump and firm within her arms,
But some fell down or strangers took and ate them

Forest could keep secrets
Forest could keep secrets

Spring is baby,
bright, fresh and new,
gurgling with the melting snow,
singing with the first cuckoo.

The moon was married last night
and nobody saw,
dressed up in her ghostly dress
for the summer ball.