1. No garden where sorrow has woven its veil
Is refreshed by the dew's ruby glow,

2. Though dusk may lift up its neck in the vale,
And sunrise its banners bestow.

3. When the sun makes it laugh, it weeps eyes
Fringed thick with the yellow blood-wort;

4. Its soil is the hue of the skies, and it lies
Star-inwoven, bewildering, sought.

5. With the fairest creation that He could contrive
Whose beauty has conquered mankind,