Oh how my broken heart doth yearn for thee,

And thumps a hard and painful beat each night,

As I, each day, live crying bitterly

Without someone to love and hold me tight.

And in the secret hills and hidden vale,

Go I to tell the beasts and wild bee,

While under each forest, bright glen and dale,

I hide my secret want and love from thee.

And oh how I envy the fickle sea,

Whose arms have touched and felt thy hands and face,

Caressed thy hair and kissed thy cheeks gently,

And held thee tight in her deep blue embrace.

That fickle, base and treacherous deep sea!

What more merit has she, too deep, than me?