A poem written for Easter Sunday by Irish cleric Siadhal mac Feredach (later known as Sedulius Scottus), to Tado, the Archbishop of Milan:

Christ the true Sun rose
from the dark last night,
The mystic harvest of the lord's own field.
Now wandering tribes of bees joyously sport
between the flowers,
seeking their nectars sweet.
The honeyed winds with birdsong are bedewed,
Nocturnal melody of nightingales abounds.
In church, the people chorus out their Sion song,
their hundred-folded alleluia sounds.
Tado, our father, may heavenly Easter joy
gather you to the threshold of the light.

(translation from the Irish, Caitlin Matthew