The distant huntsman whines his horn
And the skylark sings with me
But to go to school in the summer morn
Oh, it drives all joy away
Under a cruel eye outworn
The little ones spend the day
Ah, then at times I drooping sit,
And spend many an anxious hour,
Nor in my books can I take delight,
Nor sit in learning's bower,
How can the bird that is born for joy
How can a child when fear's annoying
But droop his tender wing
an d for get his youthful spring?
O father and mother, it buds a nip
are stripped of their joy
By sorrow and cares dismayed.
How shall the summer arise in joy,
Or the summer fruits appear?
For how shall we gather what griefs destroy,
Or bless the mellowing year
When the blasts of winter appear?
How shall the summer arise in joy
Or the summer fruits appear?
Or bless the mellowing air
When the blasts of winter appear? now.