Life of my life, 'take not so soon thy flight
The last gift that death demands
When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Speak! if our souls in deathless yearnings meet;
Answer me, answer me!
And shall my soul that lies within your hand
And you as well must die, beloved dust,
And all your beauty stand you in no stead;
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.