There came a nymph dancing
         Gracefully, gracefully,
        Her eye a light glancing
         Like the blue sea;
        And while all this gladness
         Around her steps hung,
        Such sweet notes of sadness
         Her gentle lips sung,
That ne'er while I live from my memory shall fade
The song or the look of that young Indian maid.

        Her zone of bells ringing
         Cheerily, cheerily,
        Chimed to her singing
         Light echoes of glee;
        But in vain did she borrow
         Of mirth the gay tone,
        Her voice spoke of sorrow,
         And sorrow alone.
Nor e'er while I live from my memory shall fade
The song or the look of that young Indian maid.