I know no gift to bring to thee
Except the truth, my sword, my life.
One golden eye for blind to see,
No pain, nor dirt, no death to be your wife.
I know no spring to bloom or grow,
No rainbow full of fair and grace,
But only essence that I owe
To beauty bloomed upon thy face.
I`ll sing no more the winds of May
And Gods that brought thy breath along.
I`ll sink myself in holly pray:
Gods bless me now to sing thy song.
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