Whence cometh such tender rapture1？
Those curlsthey are not the first ones
I've smoothened， and I've already
Known lipsthat were darker than yours.
The stars have risen and faded，
Whence cometh such tender rapture？
And eyes have risen and faded
In face of these eyes of mine
I'd never yet hearkened unto
Such songs in the depths of darkness，
Whence cometh such tender rapture？
My head on the bard's own breast
Whence cometh such tender rapture？
And what's to be done with it， artful
Young vagabound， passing minstrel
With lashestoo long to say.
