Thou art the soul of a summers day,
Thou art the breath of the rose
But summer is fled, the rose is dead
Where are they gone? Who knows, who knows?

Thou art the blood of my hearts, o heart,
Thou art the soul repose
But my heart grows numb, and my soul is dumb
Where art thou, loves? Who knows, who knows?

Thou art the hope of my after years
Sun for my winter snow
But years go by beneath clouded sky
Where shall we meet? Who knows, who knows?