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 songs 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.'