Love

One sweet, sad secret holds my heart in thrall;
A mighty love within my breast has grown,
read more

One sweet, sad secret holds my heart in thrall;
A mighty love within my breast has grown,
Unseen, unspoken, and of no one known;
And of my sweet, who gave it, least of all.
[Fr., Ma vie a son secret, mon ame a son mystere:
Un amour eternel en un moment concu.
La mal est sans remede, aussi j'ai du le taire,
Et elle qui l'a fait n'en a jamais rien su.]

Ask not of me, love, what is love?
Ask what is good of God above;
Ask of read more

Ask not of me, love, what is love?
Ask what is good of God above;
Ask of the great sum what is light;
Ask what is darkness of the night;
Ask sin of what may be forgiven;
Ask what is happiness of heaven;
Ask what is folly of the crowd;
Ask what is fashion of the shroud;
Ask what is sweetness of thy kiss;
Ask of thyself what beauty is.

I cannot love as I have loved,
And yet I know not why;
It is the one read more

I cannot love as I have loved,
And yet I know not why;
It is the one great woe of life
To feel all feeling die.

Love spends his all, and still hath store.

Love spends his all, and still hath store.

I seek for one as fair and gay,
But find none to remind me,
How blest the read more

I seek for one as fair and gay,
But find none to remind me,
How blest the hours pass'd away
With the girl I left behind me.

Greensleeves was all my joy,
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
read more

Greensleeves was all my joy,
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but Lady Greensleeves?

When love's well-timed 'tis not a fault of love;
The strong, the brave, the virtuous, and the wise,
read more

When love's well-timed 'tis not a fault of love;
The strong, the brave, the virtuous, and the wise,
Sink in the soft captivity together.

When love once pleads admission to our hearts,
(In spite of all the virtue we can boast),
read more

When love once pleads admission to our hearts,
(In spite of all the virtue we can boast),
The woman that deliberates is lost.

Mysterious love, uncertain treasure,
Hast thou more of pain or pleasure!
. . . .
read more

Mysterious love, uncertain treasure,
Hast thou more of pain or pleasure!
. . . .
Endless torments dwell above thee:
Yet who would live, and live without thee!

For 'tis impossible
Hate to return with love.
[It., Che amar chi t'odia, ell'e impossibil cosa.]

For 'tis impossible
Hate to return with love.
[It., Che amar chi t'odia, ell'e impossibil cosa.]