Knowest thou, sweet Mary,
Whereto I aspire?
'Tis my hope to love thee—
This is my desire.
I would e'er be near thee,
Queen most fair and sweet;
Do not, do not drive me
From my Mother's feet.
Then, O Rose most lovely,
Let me hear from thee;
Loving Mother, tell me,
What thou wilt of me.
More I cannot offer—
Lo, I bring my heart;
Lovingly I give it,
Ne'er from thee to part.
Lady, thou didst take it,
'Tis no longer mine;
Long since thou didst love it,
And its love was thine.
Do not then forsake me,
Mother of sweet Love,
Till one day thou greet me
Safe in heaven above.