“Farewell, for thy moment has lengthened to years;
I kiss thee a withering curse:
Thou hast bought with thy soul-wealth a valley of tears,
“Give me, I pray thee, my Lurlei lone,
Something to quiet my soul.”
Conscience doth slide from my heart like a stone,
Clouds of remorse from me roll.
“Purity hath not a place in the heart
Reft of all conscience,” Lurlei: