from the beauty of the break of day
to the enchantment of the night,
if his eyes find these words I pray
they shall find in them delight:

at the sparkle of the velvet sky,
at the day-lit cotton blue,
at the very apple of his eye,
at the girl who sees him true;

I long that his ears hear the song,
the duet of wood and brook
that grows in defiance loud and strong
for the branches people took,

for the wanderer between the hills,
for the two birds far apart,
for the battle cry so loud and shrill
of emotion that swells my heart.