My love for him shall be
Fair love and true:
For he loves me, I know,
And I love him, pardie!

And for I know that he
Doth love me so,
I should be all untrue
To love but him, pardie!

Beneath the branch of the green may
My merry heart sleeps happily,
Waiting for him who promised me
To meet me here again this day.

And what is that I would not do
To please my love so dear to me?
He loves me with leal heart and true,
And I love him no less, pardie.

Perchance I see him but a day;
Yet maketh he my heart so free—
His beauty so rejoiceth me—
That month thereafter I am gay.

Suffered for love such woe Have I, that ask not;
Drunk parting's poison so Have I, that ask not.

Travelled have I the world And now a charmer
Chosen, so sweet of show Have I, that ask not.

After the dust of that Her door for longing,
Eyes on such wise aflow Have I, that ask not.

With this mine ear, from out Her mouth, yest'reven,
Such sweet words hearkened, lo! Have I, that ask not.

At me why bite the lip, As saying, “Speak not?”
A ruby bitten, know, Have I, that ask not.

Without thee, in my cell Of beggary suffered

He who wants to leave
Let him leave
He who wants to sleep
Let him sleep
And with the time saved
Be silent.

Of flowers as well
Of heaven as well
Of a grave as well

Don't rush
Be silent.

In your flesh
The callused wings
The river that doesn't flow
The idle, idle clouds,
The stars that never wake

Don't dream easily
Don't flow easily
Don't bloom easily

However
Seen with narrowed eyes:

He who wants to leave
His lonely leaving form,
He who wants to sleep
His solitary slumber,

The soul shall be drowned in the flood
Of mounting blood.
Be strong at least
To resist Love,
Except at his feast.

Love, with what strange tyrannick lawes must they
Comply, which are subjected to thy sway!
How far all justice thy commands decline,
Which though they hope forbid, yet love enjoyne!
Must all are to thy hell condemn'd sustain
A double torture of despaire and pain?
Is't not enough vainly to hope and wooe,
That thou shouldst thus deny that vain hope too?
It were some Joy Ixion-like to fold
The empty aire, or feed on hopes as cold;
But if thou to my passion this deny,
Thou may'st be starv'd to death as well as I.

Kiss me then, my merry May,
By the soul of love I pray!
Prithee, nay! Tell, tell me why?
If with you I sport and play,
My mother will be vexed to-day.
Tell me why, oh tell me why.

Unloved I love, unwept I weep,
Grief I restrain, hope I repress;
Vain is this anguish, fixed and deep,
Vainer desires or means of bliss.

My life is cold, love's fire being dead;
That fire self-kindled, self-consumed;
What living warmth erewhile it shed,
Now to how drear extinction doomed!

Devoid of charm how could I dream
My unasked love would e'er return?
What fate, what influence lit the flame
I still feel inly, deeply burn?

Alas! there are those who should not love;
I to this dreary band belong;

In this same spot seven years ago the love-god found me
And with a wayward wreath of trivial sweet flowers crowned me,—
Seven wild long years ago.
In this same spot to-day a tender new love finds me
And here again the sweet and wayward love-god binds me
(Though love's bonds melt like snow!)

Ah! ever so it is. For ever and for ever
The love-god haunts our steps, and yet his chains are never
Abiding and supreme.
Love's breath is as the breath of summer's countless roses:
Yet when the sweet long month of sunlit gardens closes
All rose-scent is a dream.

Each fickle art you try in vain
A constant breast to move;
For she who would be lov'd again,
Herself must learn to love.