So I may kneel before thee on the ground,
And ask of thee how is it that unknown
Unto thy heart is every prick and wound?
Canst thou not see that e'en my breath is flown,
Thinking of thee while still the days go round?
If thou wouldst not that I should quickly die,
Love only me and bid the rest good-bye.
He might as well speak to the winds or to the stones, and he admits as much. "Whensoever I pass I sing to make thee glad; if I do not come for a few hours I send thee a greeting with my eyes. But thou dost act the deaf and likewise the dumb: pity thou hast none for my tears." If he fails to fulfil his prophecy of dying outright, at any rate he falls into the old age of youth, which arrives as soon as the bank of hope breaks:
Come night, come day, one only thought have I,
Which graven on my heart must ever stay;