I

The heart is a blackened coal That burns and smoulders still, And the mind is a barren soil Where no flowers can ever will.

II

The soul is a caged bird That beats its wings in vain, And the body is a corpse that girds Its shroud about it again.

III

The world is a vale of tears, And life is a bitter jest; And death is the only release From the endless pain and quest.

IV

But I know that beyond the grave There is light and there is peace; And I know that the soul can save Itself from its endless fleece.

V

So I'll sing my song of hope, And I'll pray for a better day, And I'll wait for the day to come When the world shall be free from pain.