Thus sang he , thus his plaint began :
“Why should I mourn that thou art gone
Who being here hast not my heart ?
I fear thy power to do me hurt ,
Yet come , dear love , yet come again !”
Plaintive his words , his music gay ;
Sweet-throated as the nightingale
In moonlit coppice fitly heard
Thus sang he , thus :
“Witch , that so sweetly canst beguile ,
I pace love’s maze with thee for guide ;
The hedge is sharp , the paths are hard ,
Thy absence stays my certain harm —
Yet come again , yet come to good !”
Thus sang he , thus .
26 November 1953