The fuchsia tree

O what if the fowler my blackbird has taken?

The sun lifts his head from the lip of the sea.

Awaken, my blackbird, awaken, awaken!

And sing to me out of my red fuchsia tree!

O what if the fowler my blackbird has taken?

The mountains grow white with the birds of the sea:

But down in the garden, forsaken, forsaken,

I'll weep all the day by my red fuchsia tree.

Ah!