II
VE my life, but not too well To give it to thee like a flower,
So it may pleasure thee to dwell Deep in its perfume but an hour.
I love my life, but not too well.
I love my life, but not too well To sing it note by note away,
So to thy soul the song may tell The beauty of the desolate day.
I love my life, but not too well.
I love my life, but not too well To cast it like a cloak on thine,
Against the storms that sound and swell Between thy lonely heart and mine.
I love my life, but not too well.
Your love is like a blue, blue wave The little rainbows play in.
Your love is like a mountain cave Cool shadows darkly stay in.
It thrills me like great gales at war,
It soothes like softest singing.
It bears me where clear rivers are,
With reeds and rushes swinging;
Or out to pearly shores afar Where temple bells are ringing.
And is it pain to
That we must love and part?
Ah, if you only
The gladness in my heart!
Love is enough.
Each day I look upon the sun,
He loves me!
I shall say,
Now is my life begun.
He loves me!
Every night,
On the dark verge of sleep,
The rapture will alight And to my bosom creep.
Peace, for I should not dare A keener joy implore.
My soul shall feel no care—Until you love no more.
