Of all the songs which poets sing 
The ones which are most sweet 
Are those which at close intervals 
A low refrain repeat; 
Some tender word, some syllable, 
Over and over, ever and ever, 
While the song lasts, 
Altering never, 
Music if sung, music if said, 
Subtle like some golden thread 
A shuttle casts, 
In and out on a fabric red, 
Till it glows all through 
With the golden hue. 
Oh! of all the songs sung, 
No songs are so sweet 
As the songs with refrains, 
Which repeat and repeat. 

Of all the lives lived, 
No life is so sweet, 
As the life where one thought, 
In refrain doth repeat, 
Over and over, ever and ever, 
Till the life ends, 
Altering never, 
Joy which is felt, but is not said, 
Subtler than any golden thread 
Which the shuttle sends 
In and out in a fabric red, 
Till it glows all through 
With a golden hue. 
Oh! of all the lives lived, 
Can be no life so sweet, 
As the life where one thought 
In refrain doth repeat, 

"Now name for me a thought 
To make life so sweet, 
A thought of such joy 
Its refrain to repeat." 
Oh! foolish to ask me. Ever, ever 
Who loveth believes, 
But telleth never. 
It might be a name, just a name not said, 
But in every thought; like a golden thread 
Which the shuttle weaves 
In and out on a fabric red, 
Till it glows all through 
With a golden hue. 
Oh! of all sweet lives, 
Who can tell how sweet 
Is the life which one name 
In refrain doth repeat?