In
springtime there buds a lime so green
In
springtime there buds a lime so green
with
lilies and violets too;
where
sits a maiden fair as a queen
who
sews with the sun in view.
With
spring sun one could her best compare
like
apples her cheeks are round;
When
at the mirror she shakes her hair
like
lime-blossom does it float down.
She
is a mirror of purest glass,
no
flaw or stain dulls its shine;
she
plays on the strings with a hand as fast
as
sunlight on branch of lime.
As
sunlight’s caught in the lime-leaves’ dance,
she
captures both sense and mind,
her
magic spell has me quite entranced,
my
heart is to her consigned.
And
my heart is to her consigned.
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