There came a nymph dancing

     Gracefully, gracefully,

    Her eye a light glancing

     Like the blue sea;

    And while all this gladness

     Around her steps hung,

    Such sweet notes of sadness

     Her gentle lips sung,

That ne'er while I live from my memory shall fade

The song or the look of that young Indian maid.

    Her zone of bells ringing

     Cheerily, cheerily,

    Chimed to her singing

     Light echoes of glee;

    But in vain did she borrow

     Of mirth the gay tone,

    Her voice spoke of sorrow,

     And sorrow alone.

Nor e'er while I live from my memory shall fade

The song or the look of that young Indian maid.