THERE is so much that you can give to me -- I cannot bring you anything at all, Save worship and the little, tender words My lips let fall. But you -- oh, you can feed my hungry heart, And you can fill my chalice soul with wine, Till I grow drunk with drinking, marvelling At love like thine. How selfishly I come to beg all this, I who can give you nothing, dear, at all, Save worship and the little, grateful words My lips let fall. |