Coventry once I left behind and thee too;
But look: I wouldst sail the seas with thee alone!
Thee alone, Immortal, t'at other souls shall feel mocked;
Mine is the night ship and thine the dawn voyage;
Ah, t'at the blind earth knoweth our hearts are its enterprise;
T'at shall be empty not, even th' sun disappears and moonlig't dies.

To thee whom I once loved, and now still do;
To thee for whom t'is heart beats, and shall take revenge;
To thee for whom my soul was blown, and by whom I'th grown alone;
Ah, thee, bewildering me too much by thy passionate desire.
Ah, Immortal, talk me no love talk, but take my life-all of it;
As though all men's streams are but fused in thee, thee alone!
Ah, Immortal, t'at fierce scent of thy red summer skin,
Too is just one of tonight's rampage of flurry wind!

And t'ese lines of love hath thou laid onto me, within
The breath and warmth of so many pleasant places;
Immortal, Immortal, Immortal--and like the beauty of Sofia;
I believeth in thy loveliness, in thy kind and timeless fatamorgana.
Immortal, my mountain, my earth, my everything;
Immortal, the very birth yon icy oceans hath to sing!
Immortal, hath thou seen the decree of fate;
T'at love is still t'ere for us, for 'tis never late?

Thy eyes are like heavens' broad fields beneath, and ever rejoicing;
Ah, darling, for I canst but see all gold and silver--plain and honest in 'em;
A drama like a song, a stage play like a vanished poem;
But one t'at turns again brave and crimson;
Toward' th' very end of the dark season.
I'd love to see thee pry love into my hungry heart again;
To watch thee brutally scorn and defy peace t'at hath existed
Piercing such through thy lonesome heart; raised, but now denied.

Ah, Immortal, I blame th' sun for its gladness;
And raise my contempt toward' the unknowing skies;
Like blood flowers, my heart too is emptied with madness;
T'at one wonders why it exists still and cannot die.
I wanteth to take thee again through the city's old brakes;
And introduceth thee to the idle flames of my song;
As beautifully and vengefully as misty poetry by th' lake;
T'at none is to see--nor to steal from me, as t'ey may fly or pass along.