In the garden she did go,
Gathered roses dewed with showers;
     Some she gave her lover, so
He might lay his face in flowers.

     Garments loose and snowy breast,
I slipped in her bosom tender
     And I found a moment's rest,
Clasped within those arms so slender.
     Then I raised my hands above--
Grant, O Lord, that I wake never;
     On the bosom of my love
May I live and die forever!

     What have I from this world gained?
What advantage gathered ever?
     For the hunt my falcon trained
I let fly--it went forever!

     I am ill, and near my end--
With an apple 1 hasten to me.
     I shall curse thee if thou send
Strange physicians to undo me.

     No physicians strange for me--
All my griefs in thee I centre.
     Come and take my bosom's key,
Open wide the door and enter.
     Once again I say, ’twas not
I that came--’twas thy love brought me.
     In my heart thy love hath got
And its dwelling-place hath wrought me.

     When the falcon hunger feels
Then he finds the game and takes it;
     When love thirsts, the lover steals
Kisses from his love and slakes it.
     But thou hold'st me with thy charms;
When I kiss thee thou dost bind me:
     ’Twas but now I left thine arms,
And my looks are turned behind me.
     I am ever, for thy love,
Like the sands in summer, burning:
     Looking up to heaven above,
For one little raindrop yearning.

     Oft and often have I said
For my love make garments shining:
     Of the sun the facing red,--
Of the moon cut out the lining;
     Pad it with yon storm-cloud dark,
Sewn with sea weed from the islets:
     Stars for clasps must bring their spark--
Stitch me inside for the eyelets!