King Pharamond

So their freshness I felt in the days ere hope perished. --O me, me, my darling! how fair the world groweth! Ah, shall I not find thee, if death yet should linger, Else why grow I so glad now when life seems departing? What pleasure thus pierceth my heart unto fainting? --O me, into words now thy melody passeth.

MUSIC with singing (from without)

Dawn talks to-day Over dew-gleaming flowers, Night flies away Till the resting of hours: Fresh are thy feet And with dreams thine eyes glistening. Thy still lips are sweet Though the world is a-listening. O Love, set a word in my mouth for our meeting, Cast thine arms round about me to stay my heart's beating! O fresh day, O fair day, O long day made ours!