1. I weep yet know not why, when careless grown
My eye on "wont" and "custom" fixed hath been,

2. Nor for estrangement from your presence mourn
I, nor because our parting hath there been;

3. But only lest my foemen might divine
My heart, when blossoms bright on spear were seen.

4. O Salma, God hath made your morn's approach
From us more distant and our night's return,

5. Nor ever in forgetfulness sunk deep
Saw I you tranquil, nor in heedless sleep.

6. Nor e'er have I partaken of sweet drafts
Of which yourself had been partaker too,