A clear, musical voice rose in a song, and the soldier checked a question to listen, for the voice and the song charmed him from the first note. The song was in Spanish, and, though he was by no means perfect in the language, he caught the meaning and spirit of it. It ran something to this effect:
Bright are the leaves and the blossoms that grow in the beautiful lake country,
They fill the place with brilliance of things celestial.
Some of them drop or are thrown to the river,
Helpless they drift on its swift running surface.
Down past the city through sliminess foul,
Out they are whirled to waters eternal
Lost and forgotten forever and ever.
Blossom I cherish; I’ll hold thee.
Never shalt thou leave the lake country.