More tender passions through me steal
Than when this wayward world I trod.
Lie still, dear heart, and do not speak—
God would not stoop to such as me;
With silent mouth and noiselessly
I would my grave Creator seek.
Kiss me, dear love, for now I feel
More noble passions through me steal."
Kiss me, this last, for I must flee
From all I loved and cherished here,