1. Longing for you, I pen the throbbing of my heart
In verse, hoping you might read my inner truths-

2. Those I hid for fear that your beauty would be singed
By the blaze of my passions.

3. The trail is barren; where are you, where are
The roses of your spirit in the springtime of my gardens?

4. Or are you not yet sated with remoteness, strange one,
That souls should dry up the outpouring of my tenderness?