To G, her one and only rose,
Her A this bond of true love shows.
Ah, how can I endure the pain
Or patience to the utmost strain
Till you have come back home again?
Am I a stone that should not yearn,
Do you believe, for your return?
All day, all night, I'm anguish-tossed
Like one who foot and hand has lost.
Without you, all that joys my blood
Is little more than trampled mud.
Far from rejoicing, I shed tears
And never happiness appears.
When I recall how you caressed
So joyously, my little breast

To C —
her lover,
sweeter than honey or honeycomb,

B —
sends her loving.
Uniquely special,
Why do you delay
so long,
so far?
Why do you want your only one to die,
me,
your soul and body lover,
me,
your little starveling bird,
Sighing for you
every hour,
every second?
Without your honied presence
I want
to hear no one,
to see no one.
Like the turtle on its shrivelled branch
Forever mourning for its mate
I
too
endless
mourn
Until I have your love again.
I look

Each word of love a child doth speak,
It sows a flower, to bloom
Along its aged parent's path,
Descending to the tomb!

No more may blush the summer's rose
To glad their failing sight;
Nor to the ravished sense, as once,
Its fragrance give delight.

But every word of love they hear
Is treasured in the heart;
A bloom, a fragrance there to shed,
Which never can depart!

In the glad spring when leaves were green,
O merrily the throstle sings!
I sought, amid the tangled sheen,
Love whom mine eyes had never seen,
O the glad dove has golden wings!

Between the blossoms red and white,
O merrily the throstle sings!
My love first came into my sight,
O perfect vision of delight,
O the glad dove has golden wings!

The yellow apples glowed like fire.
O merrily the throstle sings!
O Love too great for lip or lyre,
Blown rose of love and of desire,
O the glad dove has golden wings!

'Tis said but a name is friendship,
Soulless, and shallow, and vain;
That the human heart ne'er beats in response,
Or echoes sweet sympathy's strain.

But to-day in " memory's mirror "
Came a dear and honored one,
Whom in days gone by had lived and had loved,
Ere her heavenly goal was won.

Her countenance beamed as of yore,
With radiant smiles of love,
And I felt that the friendship she lavished me here,
Had ripened in heaven above.

I felt that her voice so winsome,
Attuned to holier rhymes,

'Tis now since I sat down before
That foolish fort, a heart,
( Time strangely spent) a year, and more,
And still I did my part:

Made my approaches, from her hand
Unto her lip did rise,
And did already understand
The language of her eyes;

Proceeded on with no less art,
My tongue was engineer:
I thought to undermine the heart
By whispering in the ear.

When this did nothing, I brought down
Great canon-oaths, and shot
A thousand thousand to the town,
And still it yielded not.

'Tis not my ladies face that makes me love her,
Though beauty there doth rest,
Enough t' inflame the breast
On one, that never did discover
The glories of a face before;
But I that have seen thousands more
See nought in hers, but what in others are,
Only because I think she's fair , she's fair .

'Tis not her vertues , nor those vast perfections ,

'T IS not her birth, her friends, nor yet her treasure,
Nor do I covet her for sensual pleasure,
Nor for that old morality
Do I love her, 'cause she loves me.

Sure he that loves his lady 'cause she's fair,
Delights his eye, so loves himself, not her.
Something there is moves me to love, and I
Do know I love, but know not how, nor why.

The tired heart sleeps well through the night
I sleep well
the owner of a lonely heart in flannel
what is it, there quietly moving in dream a suckling
freezing from cold a fly's whimper
bumm bumm bumm bumm bumm bumm.

I feel sorrow over the dust-white light of this room
I feel lonely about the powerless tremor of this life.

My love
you're sitting there, by the pillow on my bed
my love, you're sitting there.
Your slender neck
your hair you've grown long
listen, my gentle love
please stroke my miserable fate
I feel sorrow

I

Thy nights moan into my days,
Through my dreams courses the blood of thy feet.
O I will drink thy tears away,
I will bear thee up under the crown of my leaves.

The crown of my leaves is cool and full of peace,
Bathed high in waters deep.
Down upon us shall drip the depths of the sky,
From seas eternal through the holy crown of leaves.

Slumber deep in my arms!
My eyes are steel-hard angels watching
Over thy peace.

II

Thy eyes with gloom are gleaming,
And a spinning weeping