Other in the rustic scene, being of not-here, being of dream
You may have all I can give, so long I don’t have to see you live

The charities are open,
The coffers are full,
The kitchens abounding
But the food is dull.

Approach me, my hand unfurls—yes, take the flow’r, this my pearl
But, ha, you’re gone—one less woe—ease, mine to know.