I loved my love from green of Spring

Until sere Autumn’s fall;

But now that leaves are withering

How should one love at all?

One heart’s too small

For hunger, cold, love, everything.

I loved my love on sunny days

Until late Summer’s wane;

But now that frost begins to glaze

How should one love again?

Nay, love and pain

Walk wide apart in diverse ways.

I loved my love,—alas to see

That this should be, alas!

I thought that this could scarcely be,

Yet has it come to pass:

Sweet sweet love was,

Now bitter bitter grown to me.