Serenade

A. Woodforde-Finden

Oh come, my beloved, day is waning,

Stars peeping out above,

Night winds are sighing and crying,

My heart is dying,

Faint with unquenched fires of love.

Beloved, I'm waiting, night is falling,

Gleams now the silver moon,

My soul is burning and yearning

For your returning;

Come, beloved, oh, come soon!