Now I’m glad! Now I’m free!
And I always shall be,
If you never bring sorrow to me.”
So the merry brown thrush sings away in the tree,
To you and to me, to you and to me:
And he sings all the day, little girl, little boy,
“Oh, the world’s running over with joy!
But long it won’t be,
Don’t you know? don’t you see?
Unless we are as good as can be!”