Shortens with thoughts; maybe he now returns,
Maybe is come. Is it not free to ask,
Though living I immure me in the grave,
That once more I may look upon thy face,
That I at least may perish near to thee?
And therefore to the hermit’s narrow house
Upon the road, upon the broken rock,
I will betake me, and enclose myself.
Some knight maybe, in passing by my hut,
May speak aloud by chance my loved one’s name;