Dear love, when in thine arms I lie
and feel thy faithful heart
throbbing with love which cannot die,
and know how true thou art.
Ah, why unbidden to mine eyes
should foolish teardrops thronging rise?
Why should I weep?

Dear love, thy kiss falls on my mouth,
thine arms hold me again;
I drink thy looks, as earth in drouth
drinks drops of welcome rain.
Once more, upon thine ardent breast
my glowing cheeks are hidden pressed,
and yet I weep.

When thou art gone, and I am lone,
bereft of life in thee,
when all this joy, which we have known,
lost in the past shall be;
then, when undone by sorrow's ache
in death my heart shall refuge take,
I shall not weep.