PASSION AND WORSHIP

One flame-winged brought a white-winged harp-player

Even where my lady and I lay all alone;

Saying:‘ Behold, this minstrel is unknown;

Bid him depart, for I am minstrel here:

Only my strains are to Love's dear ones, dear.’

Then said I:‘ Through thine hautboy's rapturous tone

Unto my lady still this harp makes moan,

And still she deems the cadence deep and clear.’

Then said my lady:‘ Thou art Passion of Love,

And this Love's Worship: both he plights to me.

Thy mastering music walks the sunlit sea:

But where wan water trembles in the grove

And the wan moon is all the light thereof,

This harp still makes my name its voluntary.’