LX When I have departed
LXI There is no more to say, now thou art still
LXII Play up, play up thy silver flute
LXIII A beautiful child is mine
LXIV Ah, but now henceforth
LXV Softly the wind moves through the radiant morning
LXVI What the west wind whispers
LXVII Indoors the fire is kindled
LXVIII You ask how love can keep the mortal soul
LXIX Like a tall forest were their spears