  Let us never worry! The flowers little care How much of the weather Is foul or is fair; They blossom at morning; They fade at the noon, And blooming and fading Their beauty dies soon. The birds freely sing In autumn's drear weather As blithe as in spring; They chorus their music In joy's happy tune, And singing and singing Their songs vanish soon. Let us never worry! If short is the life, Whether laughing with music Or weeping with strife; 'Tis the shine of the morning,— 'Tis late afternoon; Ah, the night-fall is coming And darkness so soon! |
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