A serf to another's green field and vine
In menial strife
toil 'til day is done
Gnarled fingers raw, a body bent by time
Brown skin darkened, burned under season's sun
My Lady's eyes warm a too long cold heart
Rekindle desire
once thought forsaken
Her eternal flame cast light through cruel dark -
From disenchanted dreams I awaken
Thy lips speak no words, regret or malice
Nor shall I
deny this earnest proclaim
When once my lips touched love's ruby chalice
So summer's fairest grapes withered in shame
No fruit produce sweeter wine, I confess
If my
love be grape, would that I be thy press
