O, A Beautiful Thing Is The Flower That Fadeth, And Perishing, Smiles On The Chill Autumn Wind; A Sweet Desolation Its Ruin Pervadeth, A Fragrant Remembrance Still Lingers Behind. O, A Beautiful Thing Is The Glad Consummation Of A Life That Is Upright, Untarnished And Pure; That Spirit, When Freed From This Earth'S Animation, Shall Live, As The Heavens Eternal Endure!