It grew in the grand air of freedom,
From the heart of the mountain sod,
Fulfilling its destiny gladly,
In cheerful obedience to God.
It struggled through life well and bravely,
'Gainst wind, cruel night, frost and storm,
Which gained it that bright sheen of glory,
Its fond dying face to adorn.

'Tis said that the song of the bulbul,
Floating sweetly through calm moonlit skies,
As he sings to his dearly loved partner,
Is the sweetest just ere he dies;
So it seemed that the leaflet whilst dying,
Was discoursing of love from its core,
Which gave it a beauty and glory
It had never appeared in before.

It spoke of a life in the future,
Transcending the glory of this,
Where hearts in harmonious concert,
Would form an existence of bliss.
So I gathered the love-freighted leaflet,
Which brought such sweet message to me,
In hopes that its heavenly language,
Might be eloquent also to thee.

For I knew that the beautiful message,
Came from fond nature's glorious king,