O thou breeze so free and wild,
What doth mean thy wanton playing?
Here and there so sweetly straying,
Heav'n's belov'd, enchanting child.
 
Leaps my soul to wildest heights!
Ah what joy my breast is filling,
Spring, is't thou thus only thrilling
Us with thy too brief delights?
 
I could gaze on Heav'n all day,
Watch the clouds and see them wending,
In their glory then descending
O'er the faroff forest grey!
 
Ah! what bring they from above,
Can they lessen our lamenting,
And bring back for our contenting,
All the joys of vanish'd love?
 
Is of heav'n and hope the door
Where the birds are lightly winging,
Rise and rising, aye keep singing,
Closed against us evermore?
 
Ah! for all our yearnings fond!
Who to bourne unknown can lead us?
Who the spell of grace can read us
In that mystic word "beyond?"