In summer the rose will glow in the sunshine
And the bee will its fragrant nectar sip.
And if thunder and lightning shall fill the year,
Still the bee and only it will leap.

And in spring the rose will bud in the misty weather,
And forests and fields will glow with verdure.
And bees that fly think happiness is forever;
Whispering kisses and flowing with the weather.

But they say the bee's a rover,
Who will fly when roses are gone?
I say when winter has come the joy's not over,
But it is in a break, or lest delayed.

For in the river underneath the bitter snow
Lies the seed where it was once a riverbed.
And with love in the spring that seed will bud:
And the bees again shall come out and go.