Song From Incidental Music

Shy thoughts and grave hands do wander as they're kissed

From furrow to furrow, within the palms of amethyst



How frail is your tongue, whose sound is gone sere?

Will it cleave a tasteful song?

The means are still unclear



With shy thoughts and torn wide eyes

Welladay, welladay!

Can't I beg of you to stay?



Pale lilies in her frail

Dark leaves in my hair

With dark leers and a sigh

Is there an armour of snow?



For when I bore a troubled mind

Wind whirls, to and fro

With shy thoughts and scattered wee hands

Turn away, turn away!

Can't I beg of you to stay?



A vague song of amethyst comes in vain, welladay!

Is there no place for you to stay?

And when the hills come alive the tune to and fro