54
The desire of the moth.
Round a flame more wildly burning,
And, with heart too fond and yearning,
Heard no charmer's song.
And, with heart too fond and yearning,
Heard no charmer's song.
Blinder than a miller
Hovering with devoted gaze,
Where such visions vain I cherish,
Either they or I must perish,
Like that flickering blaze.
Hovering with devoted gaze,
Where such visions vain I cherish,
Either they or I must perish,
Like that flickering blaze.
But the moonlight, miller,
Better far befits our mirth;
That calm, streaming light is given
From the silent depths of heaven;
Fire is born of earth!
Better far befits our mirth;
That calm, streaming light is given
From the silent depths of heaven;
Fire is born of earth!
