Oh, all the flowers know her, and well they know the song

That Gentle-breath goes singing, goes singing all day long.

O Gentle-breath! O Gentle-breath!

They do not know you sing of death.

Oh, Gentle-breath comes crooning a tender lullaby.

The merry day is over, the stars are in the sky—

The stars are in the sky, and the flowers droop their heads,

They cannot hear her passing, so airily she treads.

O Gentle-breath! O Gentle-breath!—

How mournfully she murmureth!