Ye that follow the vision Of the world's weal afar, Have ye met with derision And the red laugh of war; Yet the thunder shall not hurt you, Nor the battle-storms dismay; Tho' the sun in heaven desert you, "Love will find out the way."

Ah! love and song are but a dream,
A flower's faint shade on life's dark stream.

In the fire of love we live, or pass by many ways,
By unnumbered ways of dream to death.

Over the mountains,
And over the waves,
Over the fountains,
And under the graves;
Over the floods that are deepest,
Which do Neptune obey;
Over the rocks that are steepest,
Love will find out the way.