Come , children, and now to the garden we'll go,
Where cowslips and snow-drops and buttercups grow.

The blossoms we'll pluck with a childish delight,
And get us a bunch of the red and the white.

We'll plant the dark roots, the young shoots we'll stick down,
To weave us next May-day a flowery crown.

Again at our school, when the dear bell shall ring,
Our tasks we will learn and our songs we will sing.