Whence cometh such tender rapture¹？

    Those curls——they are not the first ones

    I've smoothened， and I've already

    Known lips——that were darker than yours.

    The stars have risen and faded，

    ——Whence cometh such tender rapture？——

    And eyes have risen and faded

    In face of these eyes of mine

    I'd never yet hearkened unto

    Such songs in the depths of darkness，

    ——Whence cometh such tender rapture？——

    My head on the bard's own breast

    Whence cometh such tender rapture？

    And what's to be done with it， artful

    Young vagabound， passing minstrel

    With lashes——too long to say.