O Gentle-breath! O Gentle-breath!
They did not know you sang of death.
O promise sweet!—I hear it!—the falling of the rain!
The leaves once more shall rustle, the flowers come again!
The flowers come again, with their faces fresh and sweet,
And all the grass shall tremble 'neath the touches of your feet.
For you will come, O Gentle-breath!
And sing again your song of death!