COR CORDIUM

Dear wife, there is no word in all my songs

But unto thee belongs:

Though I indeed before our true day came

Mistook thy star in many a wandering flame,

Singing to thee in many a fair disguise,

Calling to thee in many another's name,

Before I knew thine everlasting eyes.

Faces that fled me like a hunted fawn

I followed singing, deeming it was Thou,

Seeking this face that on our pillow now

Glimmers behind thy golden hair like dawn,

And, like a setting moon, within my breast

Sinks down each night to rest.

Moon follows moon before the great moon flowers,

Moon of the wild wild honey that is ours;

Long must the tree strive up in leaf and root,

Before it bear the golden-hearted fruit:

And shall great Love at once perfected spring,

Nor grow by steps like any other thing?