With a glance at us who sit by the way
He goes riding by:
Conceive, if thou canst, my souls dismay
Sore distraught am I.
What have I to tell of the lovely fair
With a gaze as swift as a spark in the air
He is past and gone.
To the friends abode it is hard to tread
And the road is far;
But love rides high, and is quickly sped
On the back of a star.
What cause to despair, though the circling sky
Be wrapped in a veil?
It will pierce a rock, the audacious eye,
And it cannot fail.
Our sprinkled dew is an ocean wide,
And the sky its shore;
Let a lone wave break, and its swelling tide
Shall yet higher soar.
When thou shalt stand with him face to face,
Do not lift thine eyes;
For sight is vain in that holy place,
And the vision dies.
How should I weep, though sorrow sears?
For my broken heart
Is borne on the flood of my bitter tears,
And wi1l soon depart.