Be mine, dearest, once and for ever.

Must I repeat this again!

Must I pray over and over and count

The beads again!

There are tears in my eyes, but the smile is on your lips.

Be fair, dear one.

Many are the days that have been

With their sunsets; and their memories of long ago

And the months that have passed away,

But still is the flower of my devotion fresh and luring,

Come away, dearest: we will seek the flowers

In the wilds; and we will speak the language of the flowers.

You say I am poor: but then you are my queen,

Grant me this favour, the right of a subject, oh! queen.

I dreamt I sat in a chariot and rushed across the firmament

To conquer realms unknown; to traverse worlds

That were not mine: to win you–to see you smile;

Make my dreams come true, dearest.

Thus often do my fancies fly

Oh, love! what is my life

Without you?

Come, dearest,

Here have I brought the garland

And the time is coming

When you will be mine;

Come O! love and

Be mine. . .