Whose spirit uncontrolled,
Drained all the fiery wine and clutched its cup of gold!
Would I could only hear thee once again,
But once again, and pine into the air,
And fade away with all this hopeless pain,
This hope divine, and this divine despair!
If we were only Voices, if our minds
Were only voices, what a life were ours!
My soul would woo thee in the vernal winds,
And thine would answer me in summer showers,