With fragrant scent the balm doth warm
the breath, which softlly fans her face;
Could my breathing ever this much charm
and bliss in Thy kisses trace ?
Already yet in waves of darker cold
flows night through meads to marshy alder - trees,
and palest mists have thinly rolled
over breeze and warmth and scents that please.
(Nachdichtung: Derek Donaldson)