My fair swan, why dost thou not know thy heart?
Yet be it so that it may be, grace upon thy wings.
Grace the shade of purity white,
O' white the shade of thy heavens with gold fleece.
Yet ye fair swan, you not know this poor lout soul
longth for thee?
To long for a kiss, to turn thee free; a princess thou is.
O' my fair swan, dost one spread one's wings to soar?
Then as I unto thee, and thee unto I shall we too soar.
But my fair love, these chains allude me,
bounding my fate without thee forevermore;
clipping my wings and grounding me forevermore.
My love, thou art the purity of swans;
yet I, your lout a crow with broken wings.
In this endeavor which I follow thee,
to ends of earth forevermore;
and dost thou and I calmly wait forevermore.