I do not catch these subtle shades of feeling,
Your fine distinctions are too fine for me;
This meeting, scheming, longing, trembling, dreaming,
To me mean love, and only love, you see;
In me at least 'tis love, you will admit,
And you the only man who wakens it.

Suppose I yearned, and longed, and dreamed, and fluttered,
What would you say or think, or further, do?
Why should one rule be fit for me to follow,
While there exists a different law for you?
If all these fires and fancies came my way,
Would you believe love was so far away?

On all these other women—never doubt it—
'Tis love you lavish, love you promised me!
What do I care to be the first, or fiftieth?
It is the only one I care to be.
Dear, I would be your sun, as mine you are,
Not the most radiant wonder of a star.

And so, good-bye! Among such sheaves of roses
You will not miss the flower I take from you;
Amid the music of so many voices
You will forget the little songs I knew—
The foolish tender words I used to say,
The little common sweets of every day.

The world, no doubt, has fairest fruits and blossoms
To give to you; but what, ah! what for me?
Nay, after all I am your slave and bondmaid,
And all my world is in my slavery.
So, as before, I welcome any part
Which you may choose to give me of your heart.

Farewell, dear love, since thou wilt needs be gone
Mine eyes do show my life is almost gone
Nay, I will never die so long as I can spy.
There be many more though that she do go,
There be many more I fear not,
Why then let her go, I care not.

Farewell, farewell, since this I find is true
I will not spend more time in wooing you.
But I will seek elsewhere if I may find love there
Shall I bid her go? What and if I do?
Shall I bid her go and spare not?
Oh no no no, I dare not.

Ten thousand times farewell; yet stay awhile
Sweet, kiss me once; sweet kisses time beguile.
I have no pow'r  to move. How now am I in love?
Wilt thou needs begone? Go then, all is one
Wilt thou needs begone? Oh hie thee!
Nay, stay, and do no more deny me.

Once more adieu, I see loath to depart
Bids oft adieu to her that holds my heart.
But seeing I must lose thy love, which I did choose,
Go thy way for me since that may not be.
Go, thy ways for me. But whither?
Go, of but where I may come thither.

What shall I do? My love is now departed
She is as fair as she is cruel-hearted.
But seeing I must lose thy love with prayers oft repeated
If she come no more, shall I die therefore?
If she come no more, what care I?
Faith, let her go, or come, or tarry!