May rove across the heavens. I must lie
Flat on my back and watch them; I alone
Must live in one small corner of the world.
There is a tavern in a place I knew,
Kept by a shrew, a veritable hag,—
I cannot even wander in her door,—
How sweet to me her railing now would sound.
I fear the nights ... for then comes Memory.
I am more brave when I forget to think.
... O Love, your eyes shine for me in the night.