Tre Liriche per Coro e Chitarra

O Sweetheart, hear you 
  Your lover's tale; 
A man shall have sorrow 
  When friends him fail. 

For he shall know then 
	Friends be untrue 
And a little ashes 
  Their words come to. 

But one unto him 
  Will softly move 
And softly woo him 
  In ways of love. 

His hand is under 
  Her smooth round breast; 
So he who has sorrow 
  Shall have rest.

My love is in a light attire 
Among the apple-trees, 
Where the gay winds do most desire 
To run in companies. 

There, where the gay winds stay to woo 
The young leaves as they pass, 
My love goes slowly, bending to 
Her shadow on the grass; 

And where the sky's a pale blue cup 
Over the laughing land, 
My love goes lightly, holding up 
Her dress with dainty hand.

Lean out of the window,
  Goldenhair,
I heard you singing
  A merry air.

My book is closed;
  I read no more,
Watching the fire dance
  On the floor.

I have left my book,
  I have left my room,
For I heard you singing
  Through the gloom,

Singing and singing
  A merry air.
Lean out of the window,
  Goldenhair.