My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
  No lark could sing 'neath skies so dull and gray;
But, if you will, a quiet hint I'll give you,
  For ev'ry day.

I'll teach you how to sing a clearer carol
  Than lark that hails the dawn or breezy down;
To win yourself a purer poet's laurel
  Than Shakespeare's crown.

Be good, sweet maid, and let who can be clever;
  Do noble things, not dream them, all day long;
And so make Life, Death, and that vast For Ever
  One grand sweet song.