The minstrel

To the birds at morn,

My song stirs the brook and the meadow

And the waving corn.

I sing to the banners of sunset

As day goes by.

I sing to the sisters seven,

And the moon in the sky.

But when thou lookest upon me,

O loved one of mine,

The song and the heart of the singer

Are thine, all thine.

To thee, to thee, O beloved,

All, all belong,

Life that is more than music,

Love that is more than song.