The living song was ever sung so chaste,
It is no wonder that it dies away
Just as a word the wanton winds may waste.

The living song was ever sung so shy,
It is no wonder that it flies away
Just as a shrinking foot will treason fly.

The living song was ever sung so plain,
It is no wonder that not learned breasts
But nature's hearts can mark its sweet refrain.

The living song was ever so sincere,
It is no wonder that its source is hid
And not where roars the torrent wild, unclear.

The living song was ever sung so bright,
It is no wonder, not the autumn's stems
But spring's fair blossoms gave it wondrous light.

The living song was ever sung with love,
And it will hide in quiet peace away.
Blaze out with flame and power to the heavens above!