And in those days she made a little song,
And called her song "The Song of Love and Death,"
And sang it: sweetly could she make and sing.

  Sweet is true love tho' giv'n in vain, in vain;
  And sweet is death that puts an end to pain:
  I know not which is sweeter, no, not I.

  Love, art thou sweet? then bitter death must be:
  Love, thou art bitter; sweet is death to me.
  O Love, if death be sweeter, let me die.

  Sweet love, that seems not made to fade away,
  Sweet death, that seems to make us loveless clay,
  I know not which is sweeter, no, not I.

  I fain would follow love, if that could be;
  I needs must follow death, who calls for me;
  Call and I follow, I follow! let me die.