  Oh, for a soul that fulfills Music like that of a bird! Thrilling with rapture the hills, Heedless if any one heard. Or, like the flower that blooms Lone in the midst of the trees, Filling the woods with perfumes, Careless if any one sees. Or, like the wandering wind, Over the meadows that swings, Bringing wild sweets to mankind, Knowing not that which it brings. Oh, for a way to impart Beauty, no matter how hard! Like unto nature, whose art Never once dreams of reward. A Voice on the Windfleur-de-lis
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