“O love, thou art divine,A god to work thy will;Prithee, for me fulfilAll I would do for thee, if deity were mine.”“He were no friend of thine,Who hope of lofty beauty should bestowOn one who presently must life forego;Come put thee in my place,Thy idle prayer retrace;Wilt thou implore a gain,That granted, only would enlarge the pain?Death hath a sober face;If even the unhappy find him rude,How stern to one arrived at full beatitude?”
“O love, thou art divine,A god to work thy will;Prithee, for me fulfilAll I would do for thee, if deity were mine.”“He were no friend of thine,Who hope of lofty beauty should bestowOn one who presently must life forego;Come put thee in my place,Thy idle prayer retrace;Wilt thou implore a gain,That granted, only would enlarge the pain?Death hath a sober face;If even the unhappy find him rude,How stern to one arrived at full beatitude?”
“O love, thou art divine,A god to work thy will;Prithee, for me fulfilAll I would do for thee, if deity were mine.”“He were no friend of thine,Who hope of lofty beauty should bestowOn one who presently must life forego;Come put thee in my place,Thy idle prayer retrace;Wilt thou implore a gain,That granted, only would enlarge the pain?Death hath a sober face;If even the unhappy find him rude,How stern to one arrived at full beatitude?”
“O love, thou art divine,A god to work thy will;Prithee, for me fulfilAll I would do for thee, if deity were mine.”“He were no friend of thine,Who hope of lofty beauty should bestowOn one who presently must life forego;Come put thee in my place,Thy idle prayer retrace;Wilt thou implore a gain,That granted, only would enlarge the pain?Death hath a sober face;If even the unhappy find him rude,How stern to one arrived at full beatitude?”
“O love, thou art divine,
A god to work thy will;
Prithee, for me fulfil
All I would do for thee, if deity were mine.”
“He were no friend of thine,
Who hope of lofty beauty should bestow
On one who presently must life forego;
Come put thee in my place,
Thy idle prayer retrace;
Wilt thou implore a gain,
That granted, only would enlarge the pain?
Death hath a sober face;
If even the unhappy find him rude,
How stern to one arrived at full beatitude?”