Oh wreary traveller,
Hush now and listen,
To the high notes ringing,
So sweet in the air.
Like a nightingale she flits,
From place to place,
A cascade of melody,
Pouring from her mouth.
She picks a flower,
And inhales deeply.
Then laughs a tinkling laugh,
Like bells singing in harmony.
And when her mother calls,
She runs to her,
With child-like glee,
Her face as bright as the sun.
