Bird-like, each heart is destined to compose
A song unique in terms of melody,
Bespeaking e'en its quest to be as free
As but some nascent, vernal wind that blows.
Its subtle modulation would disclose
E'en what an eagle's eye could never see,
As that (ne'er seen) leaps forth from bush or tree,
And would (as joy-filled warblers) shame the crows.
Ah, every love-filled heart may make of pain
E'en what (if heard aright) may truly thrill;
E'en what does proffer what's ensconced in gain.
Yes, every heart (e'en one bereft of skill)
May (in its singing) prove all else but vain
Should one (enraptured) seek that 'perfect will'!