Death standeth by; She will not die; With glazèd eye She looks at her grave: she cannot sleep; Ever alone She maketh her moan: She cannot speak; she can only weep; For she will not hope. The thick snow falls on her flake by flake, The dull wave mourns down the slope, The world will not change, and her heart will not break.
Every day hath its night: Every night its morn: Through dark and bright Wingèd hours are borne; Ah! welaway! Seasons flower and fade; Golden calm and storm Mingle day by day. There is no bright form Doth not cast a shade-- Ah! welaway!
When we laugh, and our mirth Apes the happy vein, We're so kin to earth Pleasuance fathers pain-- Ah! welaway! Madness laugheth loud: Laughter bringeth tears: Eyes are worn away Till the end of fears Cometh in the shroud, Ah! welaway!
All is change, woe or weal; Joy is sorrow's brother; Grief and sadness steal Symbols of each other; Ah! welaway! Larks in heaven's cope Sing: the culvers mourn All the livelong day. Be not all forlorn; Let us weep in hope-- Ah! welaway!
Oh go not yet, my love, The night is dark and vast; The white moon is hid in her heaven above, And the waves climb high and fast. Oh! kiss me, kiss me, once again, Lest thy kiss should be the last. Oh kiss me ere we part; Grow closer to my heart. My heart is warmer surely than the bosom of the main.
Oh joy! O bliss of blisses! My heart of hearts art thou. Come bathe me with thy kisses, My eyelids and my brow. Hark how the wild rain hisses, And the loud sea roars below.
Thy heart beats through thy rosy limbs So gladly doth it stir; Thine eye in drops of gladness swims. I have bathed thee with the pleasant myrrh; Thy locks are dripping balm; Thou shalt not wander hence to-night, I'll stay thee with my kisses. To-night the roaring brine Will rend thy golden tresses; The ocean with the morrow light Will be both blue and calm; And the billow will embrace thee with a kiss as soft as mine.
No western odours wander On the black and moaning sea, And when thou art dead, Leander, My soul shall follow thee! Oh go not yet, my love, Thy voice is sweet and low; The deep salt wave breaks in above Those marble steps below. The turretstairs are wet That lead into the sea. Leander! go not yet. The pleasant stars have set! Oh! go not, go not yet, Or I will follow thee.