Once toward a sunlit garden, laden
With the lime trees’ scented breath,
Came to watch a merry youth and maiden,
Love and Death.

At their bosoms Love threw fragrant posies,
Tossed them laughing low and blithe,
In the background Death amid the roses
Moved his scythe.

Ere the latest rose the path was strewing,
Her sweet maiden soul was fled;
He beside her grave his cheeks bedewing,
Bent his head.

Sobbing Love then thought to give him pleasure,
Bade his curse on Death attend;
But the youth begged Death who held his treasure
Be his friend.

Death as friend might give the old completeness
Time could give to him no more,
Death, not Love alone, the former sweetness
Might restore.

Love then saw the youth was worthier loving,
Dowered with a stronger grace;
And with downcast eyelids shyly moving,
Kissed Death’s face.