  As lillies, arrayed in their loveliness, fade, So faded my fairest—my love: My joys have all fled, for my darling is dead— O Stella! My dearest, my dove! The loveliest flowers, in this sad world of ours, Are soonest from us to depart— Are first to decay; and thus faded away The tenderest joy of my heart. My hopes, once so bright, have all taken their flight, For gone is my beautiful dove: I’m weary with grief, and shall ne’er find relief, Till I rest with my darling above. |
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