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Maids more joyous than the happy birds that flit from tree to tree.
‘Tell me who thou art,’ I pleaded, ‘thou with eyes of peace and love?’
‘I am Hope,’ she softly whispered, pointing with white hand above.
‘Who art thou whose fair cheek flushes, 'neath the kiss of health, so red,
Thou with restless limbs and slender?’—‘I am Youth,’ she gladly said.
‘Who art thou,’ I questioned further, ‘thou with glance of merriment?’
‘We are sisters three,’ she answered, ‘Hope, Youth, Joy, from Heaven sent.’
Then the dim lips of the shadow moved—I heard a faint voice call:
‘On! on! Time must never linger; Death, the king, is end of all.’

So along the path we wandered—oh! the bliss of those short hours!
Youth and Hope and Joy together 'mid the everblooming flowers
That on life's smooth path were glowing soft beneath my naked feet,
Till I envied nought in Heaven, thinking here my lot complete.