Whither goest thou, my love?
Say, care thou not for my embrace?
When did I become thy bane,
That thou shouldst turn away thy face?My deeds have not been vile or base;
My conscience neither soiled nor stained.
And still thou wouldst deny thy love,
And cause thy lover bitter pain.Were all thy kisses merely feigned?
And all those summers at the cove,
Did I imagine everything,
Or is it true, thou didst feel love?Return to me, my precious dove,
Or else admit thy treachery.
For who has smelled that blooming rose,
And then forsaken memory?