

I am spending all weekend in the studio, working on new corsages.


My peace is gone,
my heart is sore,
I'll find it never
and nevermore.
Without him here
my grave is near,
my world around
is sadness bound.
My sorry head
is all forlorn,
my sorry soul
to pieces torn.
My peace is gone,
my heart is sore,
I'll find it never
and nevermore.
It's only him
I'm looking for,
for him alone
I tend my door.
His lofty walk,
his noble sight,
his smiling face,
his glance's might,
and his expressions'
magic bliss,
his touch of hand
and, oh, his kiss!
My peace is gone,
my heart is sore,
I'll find it never
and nevermore.
My bosom presses
toward his skin;
oh, may I hold him
and draw him in
and may I kiss him
as wants my heart,
under his kisses
to fall apart!



