I Wish We Could Live As The Flowers Live, To Breathe And To Bloom In The Summer And Sun; To Slumber And Sway In The Heart Of The Night, And To Die When Our Glory Had Done. I Wish We Could Love As The Bees Love, To Rest Or To Roam Without Sorrow Or Sigh; With Laughter, When, After The Wooer Had Won, Love Flew With A Whispered Good-Bye. I Wish We Could Die As The Birds Die, To Fly And To Fall When Our Beauty Was Best: No Trammels Of Time On The Years Of Our Face; And To Leave But An Empty Nest.