Song! I am tired to death! Here let me lie Where we have paced the moving trees along! Till I recover from my ecstasy, Farewell, my Song! Once more unto your pipe I lend my rhyme, Who went in woodland ways with you along! We have been happy for a little time! Farewell, my Song! Soon, soon, return, or all my life is naught! Come soon, and we will pace the woods along; And tell unto each other all our thought! Farewell, my Song! And when, again, you do come back to me, Under the sounding trees we'll pace along: While to your pipe I raise my poesy: Farewell, my Song! |