The lover's song

Lend me thy fillet, Love!

I would no longer see;

Cover mine eyelids close awhile,

And make me blind like thee.

Then might I pass her sunny face,

And know not it was fair;

Then might I hear her voice, nor guess

Her starry eyes were there.

Ah! banished so from stars and sun --

Why need it be my fate?

If only she might deem me good

And wise, and be my mate!

Lend her thy fillet, Love!

Let her no longer see:

If there is hope for me at all,

She must be blind like thee.