Maiden, thou sittest alone above,
Crowned with flowers, and like a sprite
Starrily clothed in a garment white:
Thou art the only maiden I love,
And a soul of fondness to thee I bring,
Thy glorious beauty homaging,—
But ah! thou wearest a golden ring.
Maiden, thou’st broken no vow to me,
But undone me alone with gentleness,
Wasting upon me glances that bless;
And knew’st that I never was born for thee.
No hope, no joy; yet never more
My heart shall murmur; now ’tis o’er,
I’ll bless thee dying at thy door.