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Perfect as can be;

Falling sweet upon the ear,

Telling you and me

That the thorn and rose are wed,

That night holds in store the dawn,

And till hope and trust are dead

Glad and sad will jingle on,

Jingle, jingle on!

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’TWAS morning when one found his way

Within the garden lands of love.

He lingered till he thought the day

Should surely unto night yield sway.

But morning’s sun still shone above

In skies unmarred by evening’s gray,

While on the air rang this refrain—

’Tis never night in love’s domain.

Love’s palace beauteous is, and tall,

And broad, and grand is his estate.

Gay courtiers throng each spacious hall

Where laughing echoes ceaseless fall

And mock the silent outcast, hate,

Who ever cowers by post and wall.

And scowls as rings the glad refrain—

’Tis never night in love’s domain.

And thence through groves with myrtle grown

He followed Venus’ dove-drawn car

By paths he ne’er before had known,

And yet, the morning had not flown,

And yet, fresh winds blew from afar