Love, like a mountain-wind upon an oak, falling upon me, shakes me leaf and bough.

Love - bittersweet, irrepressible - loosens my limbs and I tremble.

When I look on you a moment, then I can speak no more, but my tongue falls silent, and at once a delicate flame courses beneath my skin, and with my eyes I see nothing, and my ears hum, and a wet sweat bathes me and a trembling seizes me all over.

Once again love drives me on, that loosener of limbs, bittersweet creature against which nothing can be done.

Mere air, these words, but delicious to hear.

No honey for me, if it comes with a bee.

Stand and face me, my love,and scatter the grace in your eyes.