Lyrics 

(from works of Stefan George)

Oh hail and thanks to you who eased my stress

Who lulled the constant clamour in my veins

With the expectance, dear, of your caress,

In weeks the glow of dying summer stains.

You came, and closer each to each we clung,

I shall devise a gentle word for you,

And praise you on our sunny paths as though

You were the very one for whom I long

Up to the gate and back again we wander

Between the beeches with their gold and gloom,

And glancing through the bars, we pause to ponder

The almond tree beyond, in second bloom.

Lyrics - Stefan George

Your body with its young and virgin charms
Shall be immersed beneath the crescent’s curve
In milk and wine, but with the swerve
From half to full, in fragrant oils and balms.
You shall have gems, a palace, maids that serve
And tend, and even priests shall come and lay
Their hands on you and bless you day by day,

To make you worthy of a regal throne,
To kneel in virtue, mute,
Awaiting the unknown,
So that — as rich and ripe as mellow fruit
Yet tender as a bud — the stern
Lord of the feast may see you and discern
That you are fit to be his own.

And you exult in trying hour on hour
Herbs of pure and magic power,
Guard your spirit close in lonely stages,
Raptures of expectance for its wages,
Till the curtain flow
From the paramount of ages
Whom, perhaps, your flesh will never know.