All sorrow is nigh
My soul cannot refuse
A suffering woeful sigh.
In mourning with the sacred muses
Pity the soul which scorn chooses.
Now tolls the bell
Sweetly ringing goes
Into my breast
My weary self to rest.
Awake the knelling of a calling
My sweet heart felling
All my sinful sighs
Cannot tie
A broken mind
To itself in esse unkind.
Softly
Sings my song
Love is
Through Death piping my longing alone.
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