The sun does pop, the breezes fly;
I am my song until I die—
A lot of treasure ears to squeeze,
Melodic pleasures me to please.
A thirst, a burst, a bubbled note,
A taste of it ere it doth float.
Then out, about, around it soars,
Like seagull circling shining shores.
The sun does drop, the breezes die,
Yet I am singing high, so high,
I never dim for dark’ning night,
But sparkling, I am sparkling bright!
And ti! through heavy dusk I go!
Through every shadow, la-dee-do!
Then tra-la, tra-la, high, so high,
I am my song until I die!