A simple whistle whispers to my ear.
Were all the wistful worlds before my eye -
The rocks, the mountains, trees of forests high - 
With all the rarest thrills awaiting there,
I’d yearn to do then nothing but to share
My feet with some old path that’d lead me nigh
My timeless bride. For high it is my eye
For her and low for that which dare compare.
The clearest sky may shine horizons long - 
Her cloudless eyes do sparkle more; the foam
Of seas may please to calm - her hands belong 
To sweeter ease; the wind of hills will roam
And comb yet lack her dear and comely song: 
The simple whistle welcoming me home.