Nils Lykke

Beautiful, infinite memories

That are a-plucking at my heart,

Why will you be ever calling and a-calling,

And a-murmuring in the dark there?

And a-reaching out your long hands

Between me and my beloved?

And why will you be ever a-casting

The black shadow of your beauty

On the white face of my beloved

And a-glinting in the pools of her eyes?