From acorn cells we spring to view,
In robes of sunshine, tinged with blue,
And pearly bands of evening dew
Bound in our hair.
And now we form the magic ring,
And merrily dance and merrily sing;
A fairy's dance is a pretty thing
In the moonshine.
But ere the dawn returns again,
We wind along the wooded lane,
And glow-worm torches light the train
All the way home.
