Come, oh Love, my best physician,
Help me—I am sore distressed;
Come and cure this wild suspicion
That is tearing in my breast;
Rid me of this premonition—
Give me rest.

Thoughts that thrust my heart like sabers,
Take them all away with you—
Let me face the meddling neighbors—
Let me tell the carping crew
“See—in spite of all your labors
'Tis not true!”