Oh haste, my Sweet! Impatient now I wait,
The crescent moon swings low, it groweth late,
A night bird sings, of Life, and Love, and Fate!
Oh haste, my Sweet! Youth and its gladness goes,
Joy hath one summer time, like to the rose,
Love only lives through all the winter snows.
Then haste, my Sweet! These hours are all our own,
And see! A rose leaf on the night breeze blown!
For thee I wait — for thee I wait alone!