I see her, such beauty shrouds of light,
I'd gaze upon her morn, noon and night.
Such innocence follows thee,
like branches of stars we see.
She knows not my name,
pondering here, I am the blame.
O' Antoinette, names like a rose;
blossoming after fall of snows.
But I be to thee but a ghost,
my love is what I boast.
Thou kept seeth right through me;
let I dream of thee.
A dream soon to die
if thou not seeth my eyes.
My feeling to whom should embrace,
from my depth of love dost shone grace.