There is so much that you can give to me--
I cannot bring you anything at all,
Save worship and the little, tender words
My lips let fall.

But you--oh, you can feed my hungry heart,
And you can fill my chalice soul with wine,
Till I grow drunk with drinking, marvelling
At love like thine.

How selfishly I come to beg all this,
I who can give you nothing, dear, at all,
Save worship and the little, grateful words
My lips let fall.