"Wake, robin! Wake, robin!" the trilliums call, 
Though never a word they say; 
"Wake, robin! Wake, robin!" while bud-sheaths fall, 
And violets greet the day. 

The soft winds bring the spring again, 
The days of snow are done ; 
The stir of life's in every vein, 
And warmly shines the sun. 

The trillium stars are white as milk, 
They beckon as they swing ; 
The trillium's leaves are soft as silk, 
They make the robins sing. 

Soon all the hill and all the dale 
Shall once again be gay ; 
When trilliums from the tree-set vale 
Open their cups to-day. 

"Wake, robin! Wake, robin!" the trilliums cry, 
Though never a sound they make ; 
"Wake, robin! Wake, robin!" till wings whir by, 
And robins sing for their sake.