Entire, I met him by babbling brook
Asking not what this man and lord had took,
Bereft in thy meeting, thy heart in thy hand,
I let this soul, this looking man, stand.
Took his confession by earth, moon and star,
Love was looking, but too near and too far.
Should that I feel for the love in thine eye,
The moon only sufficient, must let that love die.

Let love be born not in glazing peeps,
From Earth and Heaven gently it weeps,
There in thy sorrow, thy mournful procession,
Thy hand, thy heart, gives thy soul’s concession.
Find then my love from freedom’s intercession,
A piece of me held in thy beautiful possession.

© A Fantazien Window 2023