...and after a many summer dies the swan
it withers slowly in thine arms
all night long amorous anthems sung
it's tears on your cheeks, history of the fall

Sweet is the breath of night,
with charms of earliest birds
close over us the silver-star, thy guide
dying embers, our only light

But see the many-coloured prime retired to rest
thy loud-tongued blood demands supplies
honour and beauty are but dreams,
big alike with wounds and dart

Like fiery dews that melt
the swan's soul into boughs does glide
flaming swords forbiddeth, they banish me from you
remembrance of a bitter loss

Ruined love, when it's built anew, grows fairer,
more strong, far greater
while glory crowns so many hatreds crest
waking, thou wert in thy nakedness
...and after a many summer dies the swan...