Sweet is the maiden's kiss that tells
The secret of her heart;
Holy the wife's—yet in them dwells
Of earthliness a part;
While in a little child's warm kiss
Is naught but heaven above,
So sweet it is, so pure it is,
So full of faith and love.
'Tis like a violet in May
That knows nor fear nor harm,
But cheers the wanderer on his way
With its unconscious charm.
'Tis like a bird that carols free,
And thinks not of reward,
But gives the world its melody
Because it is a bard.