The evening star Is the most beautiful of all stars
Love, like a mountain-wind upon an oak, falling upon me, shakes me leaf and bough.
Beauty endures only for as long as it can be seen; goodness, beautiful today, will remain so tomorrow.
Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables.
The moon has set In a bank of jet That fringes the Western sky, The pleiads seven Have sunk from heaven And the midnight hurries by; My hopes are flown And, alas! alone On my weary couch I lie.
I do not know what to do, my mind's in two.