So sweet love seemed that April morn, when first we kissed beside the thorn, so strangely sweet, it was not strange we thought that love could never change.

But I can tell - let truth be told - That love will change in growing old; Though day by day is nought to see, So delicate his motions be.

Beauty, the eternal Spouse of the Wisdom of God and Angel of his Presence thru' all creation.

When first we met we did not guess that Love would prove so hard a master.

My delight and thy delight Walking, like two angels white, In the gardens of the night.

Scatter the clouds that hide The face of heaven, and show Where sweet peace doth abide, Where Truth and Beauty grow.

When Death to either shall come - I pray it be first to me.