What is now the foliage moving?
Air is still, and hush'd the breeze,
Sultriness, this fullness loving,
Through the thicket, from the trees.
Now the eye at once gleams brightly,
See! the infant band with mirth
Moves and dances nimbly, lightly,
As the morning gave it birth,
Flutt'ring two and two o'er earth.

The Poems of Goethe, Translated in the Original Metres, with a Sketch of Goethe's Life. By E. A. Bowring (ed. 1853)