Wine, No. 15

Summer sweet is coming in; Now the pleasant days begin; Phoebus rules the earth at last; For sad winter's reign is past.

Wounded with the love alone Of one girl, I make my moan: Grief pursues me till she bend Unto me and condescend.

Take thou pity on my plight! With my heart thy heart unite! In my love thy own love blending, Finding thus of life the ending!