Come down, O Love, in the morning glow,
For the day mounts high though the hours run slow,
And I’ll show you where the lilies grow,
And the peach trees blow in the valley!
“But my Love looks down from her chair of gold
With a smile in her cruel eyes;
Her face is fair but her heart is cold
As the stars in the winter skies.
Give me the pin that pins your hair
And stabs like a poisoned blade,