She sings.

Over the fields of millet A young bird tries its wings; And sweet as a woodland rillet, Its first wild music rings— Soul of my soul, where the meadows roll What is the song it sings?

"Love, and a glad good-morrow, Heart where the rapture is! Good-morrow, good-morrow! Adieu to sorrow! Here is the road to bliss: Where all day long you may hearken my song, And kiss, kiss, kiss!"

Over the fields of clover, Where the wild bee drones and sways, The wind, like a shepherd lover, Flutes on the fragrant ways— Heart of my heart, where the blossoms part, What is the air he plays?

"Love, and a song to follow, Soul with the face a-gleam! Come follow, come follow, O'er hill and o'er hollow, To the land o' the bloom and beam; Where under the flowers you may listen for hours, And dream, dream, dream!"