WHAT doth our loves befall? They lie far underground! And happier they who all Have fairer dwelling found! They are nigh the seraph throng In skies that have no shade, And worship with sweet song God's Mother, the pure Maid. O spotless spouse unta'en! O maiden-flower in leaf! Girl-lover left in pain Alone and scarred with grief! Deep everlasting mirth Shines out from your bright eyes ... Brands once put out on Earth, Flame on in Paradise! |