Torment, what bliss I did 
to owe this primrose path 
that transgression thee commit 
and rejoice in my spathe. 

Yon through the frigid lake 
thee come cold and earnest 
thy end no prey shall see 
thee bring the brawny mist. 

Thy tales did tribes tell 
of vagrants in mausoleum held 
who call to see the cherubim sing 
those men till end in delirium dwell. 

Voices of myriad bards I heard 
who oracled my ruin in thee 
that if I breathe thy arid wind 
death shall soon coax me. 

So colorable their denounces seem 
for once methought, 
they had me charmed 
shall I abstain me to thee or naught. 

But when thee to me clearly come 
and to me wed thy three beauty lass 
my mind cleared as cloudless sky 
then, gay, I walked through dark crevasse. 

There in the wilderness I found me home 
I learned in life the need of pain 
that to heal thee art the perfect partner
in thee is life exquisite attained.