Desire of joy—how keen, how keen it is!

(Oh, the young heart—the young heart in its Spring!)

There waits adventure on the road of bliss—

A challenge in each note the free birds fling;

The spur of pride to dare us climb and kiss—

Desire of joy—how keen, how keen it is!

Desire of tears—but this is sweet, most sweet!

(Oh, the young heart—the young heart in its Spring!)

That sits a little while at Sorrow’s feet

And tastes of pain as some forbidden thing,

That draught where all things sweet and bitter meet—

Desire of tears—ah me, but it is sweet!

Desire of joy and tears—ah, gifts of gold!

(Oh, the young heart—the young heart in its Spring!)

Once only are these treasures in our hold,

Once only is the rapture and the sting,

And then comes peace—to tell us we are old—

Desire of joy and tears—ah, gifts of gold!