Bow down you trees your rich-embroidered boughs,
Bow low,
And softly fold the sleeping shepherd round.
You squirrels in the grove who swing at ease,
And hide your secret nuts where no one sees,
Where none may know,
You doves among the branches make no sound,
The sleeping, sleeping shepherd never rouse,
The happy shepherd sleeping on the ground.
Bow low you trees your rich-embroidered boughs,
Bow down, you trees.