But I with you could never be.
O, radiant star, are you of the heavens above?
How my heart yearns to be with thee!
What is a fiddler without his song?
A poet without his verse?
O, for thee my soul doth long,
Every moment without thee I curse.
And should I find thee, O Maiden Fair,
Could thou to me ere be wed?
Or would you leave me out in winter air,
To my grave to be led?
For thee I shall search ‘til I die,
Or ‘til in my arms thou dost lie.
C.D.S. February 2010
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