I never held her head between my hands,
I grabbed at mist and caught myself,
Heavily falls he who has never had a fall,
And I fell harder than a boulder into an ocean.
Now, till she comes, loneliness…
Poor me, Poor me! from hour to hour
The heat of love scorches my heart,
But she my mind holds dear is far
And cannot feel my warmth,
She is fled, chased by unwilling lips,
What a fool was I,
To let love slip without protest,
To surrender the honey of life,
Out of fear, and precaution.