I've heard, I've heard
The long low note of a bird,
The nightingale fluting her heart's one word.
I know, I know
Pink carnations heaped with snow.
Summer and winter alike they blow.
I've lain, I've lain
Under roses' delicate rain,
That fall and whisper and fall again.
Come woe, come white
Shroud o' the world, black night!
I have had love and the sun's light.