Blossom by blossom the spring begins.

Sleep; and if life was bitter to thee, pardon, If sweet, give thanks; thou hast no more to live; And to give thanks is good, and to forgive.

In the world of dreams, I have chosen my part.

Time turns the old days to derision, Our loves into corpses or wives.

Ask nothing more of me sweet; All I can give you I give; Heart of my heart were it more, More would be laid at your feet.

But now, you are twain, you are cloven apart Flesh of his flesh, but heart of my heart.

A baby's feet, like sea-shells pink Might tempt, should heaven see meet, An angel's lips to kiss, we think, A baby's feet.