I TELL you true, it is not you I love,
It is not you for whom my spirit pines..
If in my eyes my dream arising shines,
As does above a pallid pool the moon,
And seems in rapture exquisite to swoon,
O do not think that such a brief delight
Can be the bloom matured in this one night;
It is not you, it is not you I love,
I tell you true. And yet this only night be kind to me.
I am so tired.. Caress me tenderly,
And let me dream another love than you.
Your care is sweet, my heart is sad and riven.
Fain would it give what unto it is given,
I tell you true.