Column 1
-I found her in Spring shade,
There I bound her with garlands of roses:
She did not feel it and slumbered.
I looked at her; with this look
My life hung on her life:
I felt it but knew it not.
Speechless, I lisped to her
And rustled the rose garlands:
Thus, she awoke from her slumber.
She looked at me; with this look
Her life hung on my life,
And all about us was Elysium.
Column 2
Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory—
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the belovèd's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.