The Thistle-Down Floats On The Air, The Air, Whenever The Soft Wind Blows, And The Wind Can Tell Just Where, Just Where The Feathery Thistle-Down Goes. And It Tells The Bird In A Single Word, Who Whispers It Low To The Bee; And They Try To Keep The Mystery Deep, And None Of Them Tell It To Me. But I Know Well, Though They Never Will Tell, Where The Thistle-Down Goes When It Says "Farewell," It Floats And Floats Away On The Air, And Goes Where The Wind Goes - Everywhere!