My voice, to which love lends a tenderness and yearing,
Disturbs night's dreamy calm ...
Pale at my bedside burning,
A taper wastes away ...
From out my heart there
Stift verses, streams of love, that hum and sing and merge.
And, full of you, rush on, with passion overflowing.
I seem to see your eyes that, in the darkness glowing,
Meet mine ...
I see your smile ...
You speak to me alone:
My friend, my dearest friend ...
I'm your's ... your own.
