In thee bloomed my betime thought of love
Like a lovely rosebud rainbow hued
In the morning when singest the dove
Its celestial hymns of gratitude.
Ah! Beloved love’s cupful did I drain
The which opiate like seized my head
And now I feel that I am in Spain,
Building seven airy castles to remain
Wonders held up by our loving thread.
Ah! the Linnet chants sweetly and low
Our love songs out of a yearning breast
That call me lure me but I must go
Forward on the road that leads me west.
Days seem centuries since we parted,
Yet our past is still sacred and fair
And I’ll ever be broken hearted
Till I reach the west and meet you there.