I am the merle for whistling known,

And you, the sweet branch small and light;

I, gold and black; you, green and white;

I, full of songs; you, flower full-blown.

Take if you will my merry tone

And with your rose-blooms me requite;

I am the merle for whistling known,

And you the sweet branch small and light.

But should your blossoms—overthrown

By storm’s or wind’s or water’s might—

Be swept to earth in sudden plight,

Count not on me for grief or groan;

I am the merle for whistling known.