There grows No herb of help to heal a coward heart.

Love, till dawn sunder night from day with fire Dividing my delight and my desire.

There is no safety-net to protect against attraction.

Blossom by blossom the spring begins.

If you were Queen of pleasure And I were King of pain We'd hunt down Love together, Pluck out his flying-feather, And teach his feet a measure, And find his mouth a rein; If you were Queen of pleasure And I were King of pain.

For winter's rains and ruins are over, And all the season of snows and sins; The days dividing lover and lover, The light that loses, the night that wins; And time remembered isgrief forgotten, And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, And in green underwood and cover Blossom by blossom the spring begins.

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