All the tears that I have shed,
All my kisses, lo, they pass
Thro' my mind as in a glass:
All my kisses whose joy is dead.

There are flowers without a hue,
Lilies that under the moonlight fade,
Moonlight over the meadows laid,
Fountains far on the sky-line blue.

Weary and heavy with slumber I
See thro' the lids that slumber closes
Crows that gather amid the roses,
Sick folk under a sunbright sky.

Of these vague loves the weary smart
Shines unchanging, late and soon,
Like a pale slow-moving moon
Sadly into my indolent heart.