These tear-stained flowers of a poet's mind,
Culled from my bosom, lay it wholly bare;
My heart's a garden: Love is sowing there
Sad elegies each with my longing signed.
You are their sun whose radiance, purblind,
I seek in vain at home and everywhere,
In theatre, on promenade and square,
Midst revels where the chains of dancers wind.
How often through the town with watchful eyes
I wander, praying for a fate more kind,
Yet catch no glimpse of that elusive prize.
I shed my tears to loneliness confined:
Hence all these songs which from my love arise;
They come from where no man can sunshine find.
