World is as it used to be
Nor yours nor mine, nor slave nor free
Love had robbed us of immortal things
Most desires our hands never reach,
Be hold for I cannot sleep
And like a guilty thing I creep
Your presence is the stillness
Fills me with wonder and mysteries,
All night upon my heart I feel your heart beat
I saw the bitter of it, and the sweet
But to prevent the sad increase
Of hopeless love, away I keep,
Would that you were all to me
Miss you more than tongue can speak
Comfort myself, but what comfort is in me?
We are not where, nor what we be.