The golden fruitage drooping nigh
Still rustles quickly down,
Though years steal lustre from the eye,
And Fate begins to frown.

Still is my heart divinely young,
Insatiate of joy
As when young Love his pinions hung
Above a daring boy.

Time quails at Love's unconquered might,
And brings his gifts to me,
That I may store up vast delight,
To last eternity.