Grown and Flown
I loved my love from green of SpringUntil sere Autumn’s fall;But now that leaves are witheringHow should one love at all?One heart’s too smallFor hunger, cold, love, everything.
I loved my love on sunny daysUntil late Summer’s wane;But now that frost begins to glazeHow should one love again? 10Nay, love and painWalk wide apart in diverse ways.
I loved my love—alas to seeThat this should be, alas!I thought that this could scarcely be,Yet has it come to pass:Sweet sweet love was,Now bitter bitter grown to me.