And is it your voice indeed
In the chambers of the world,
With a song for its need
With a cry for the joy of it whirled
As the sun and the heights of light?
Is this your voice indeed,
That flings a multiple delight
On the blossom of even a weed?

The voice and passion of beautiful sound
Still in the heart o' the world
Lies a perilous grief upcurled
At thought of the golden passions drowned
In the midst of an ancient death.
Yea, this is indeed your voice,
That for all its wonder of woven breath
The enemy still destroys.