Return, my fair beloved; why am I turned aside? Why is the flock all there, and I with you do not abide? I charge ye arrows point to where my soul resides, O, Lord, I'm sick of love — I'm waiting here to rise above.

I sleep in deep despair; I sleep but hear a voice. He is revealed o'er there behind the lattice pure and fair. My dear One spoke and said, “Rise up and take my hand, Come back to this good land — For I have been forever here.”

The Sun has taken flight, His countenance so bright. For lo, the winter's past, and I have found my Love at last. His glory fills my sight; I look up to His face, Then run to Blessed Light — Now, I am wrapped in His embrace.

and I with you not bide?

behind the lattice fair.

and I have found at last.