'Twas said of old, and still the ages say,
“The lover's path is full of doubt and woe.”
Of me they spake : I know not, nor can know,
If she I sigh for will my love repay.
My head sinks on my breast; with bitter strife
My heart is torn, and grief she cannot see.
All unavailing is this agony
To help the love that has become my life.