With the winds to follow and say they love me--
Who could be lonely? O-ho, not I!

Somebody said, in the street this morning,
As I opened my window to let in the light,
That the darkest day of the world was dawning;
But I looked and the East was a gorgeous sight.

One who claims that he knows about it
Tells me the earth is a vale of sin;
But I and the bees and the birds, we doubt it,
And think it a world worth living in.

Someone says that hearts are fickle,
That love is sorrow, that life is care;
And the reaper Death, with its shining sickle,
Gathers whatever is bright and fair.

I told the thrush, and we laughed together,
Laughed till the woods were all a-ring ;
And he said to me as he plumed each feather,
"Well, people must croak, if they cannot sing."

Up he flew, but his song, remaining,
Rang like a bell in my heart all day,
And silenced the voices of weak complaining,
That pipe like insects along the way.

O world of light, O world of beauty!
Where are there pleasures so sweet as thine?