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Thou go’st away and, well I know it,
To follow thee must I no more,
Thou art for me now lost for ever,
My soul’s dear bride, whom I adore.
My only guilt was that I saw thee,
Which I to pardon have no might,
Mine arm I’ll stretch for ever vainly
To expiate my dream of light.
Like holy Virgin’s purest image
In my fond eyes thou wilt rise now,
The brightest crown on forehead bearing,
Where dost thou go? When comest thou?
