Appeal to the Virgin

Ah! here our days are all too short,

And dark our nights with dread:

With eager hands we seek to cull

The tempting roses red.

Thou shouldst be milder far, Marie;

The life in us is thine,

And thou alone canst truly know

Such yearning hearts as mine.

Thy soul has felt this virgin woe,

For once to thee it came;

It seems as pure as winter's snow,

And yet 'tis glowing flame.