How absent was of mine in summer's gone
From you, whom passed and left the winter's cloud
Concealing me from king of eyes upon
The meadows glow, with none a ray allowed.
Oh I see you within my passing years
Of season's mirror, that in autumn brings
The withered leaves to fall as does my tears
And ochre takes your gold and angel wings.
Even in Spring does the hue of flower's dim
With sadden gaze in morning's weeping dew;
Looking on me with pity worth on him,
Like all my sorrows stare, and Springtime knew!

Yet if could florals take my seasons' gloomed
Still leaves me of a heart with you entombed.