Freely the threads at her pleasure weaving,
Much veiling here, much there unfolding,
And then in magical vapor leaving.
Life and death, rapture and sadness,
Are here in inmost sympathy,--
Who yieldeth himself to love's deep madness,
From its wounds is never free.
In pain must every bond be riven
That winds around the inner eye,
The orphaned heart with woe have striven,