Whose notes wandered down from above,
And wherever she walked in her beauty
Sprang blossoms of joy and of love.
As she stood at her door in the morning,
The hunter below, riding by,
Cried out to his comrades, “we’re early!
For look, there’s a star in the sky!”
At the chapel, when good men were praying
That angels of God would appear,
Every heart turned to her, lowly kneeling,