That here her little children love
To make sweet flowerets grow.

My sister Anna's gone to take
Her supper, and will come,
With quickest haste that she can make,
To let me run for some.

We do not leave the spot alone,
For fear the birds will spy
The places where the seeds were sown,
And catch them up and fly.

We love to have them come and feed,
And sing and flit about;
Yet not where we have dropped the seed,
To find and pick it out.

But now the great round yellow sun
Is going down the west;
And soon the birds will every one
Be home, and in the nest.

Then we to rest shall go home too;
And while we're fast asleep,
Amid the darkness and the dew,
Perhaps the sprouts will peep.

And, when our plants have grown so high
That leaves are on the stem,