Art thou as Heaven, a loveliness undying? Nay! Thou art more lovely, a flower evergreen, That blossoms the autumn, when on earth it’s flying, And adorns the winter in a fashion unseen;
And comes the merry spring, when I envision, Heaven amidst thee, and amidst heaven thy dance, Confounds which even Love, like Moon before the Sun; Tell me, how can I not but melt before thy glance?
For thee my love, immortal, though my heart is not, For it rusts even now, as thy essence departs; Even Beauty herself, to me this world hath brought, But not even she has thy heart, The Heart of Hearts.
Ah! my heart has been seized, I confess, For it has given thou my place of recess.