Thou must wither like a rose
Thou shalt be as free as mountain winds
Thou wouldst weep tears bitter as blood
Though bright as silver the meridian beams shine
Though thou be black as night
Thoughts vague as the fitful breeze
Three-cornered notes fly about like butterflies
Through the forest, like a fairy dream through some dark mind, the ferns in branching beauty stream
Through the moonlit trees, like ghosts of sounds haunting the moonlight, stole the faint tinkle of a guitar
Through the riot of his senses, like a silver blaze, ran the legend