My word, my age, my cage,
I in my singing make a grand life of it.
My dream, my breeze, my wings,
Not one note would I strike from it.
My change, my pain, my breast,
I in my night paint light of it.
My rest, my grace, my end,
I of my death find no strife in it.
My love, my blessed, my friend,
I in glad rage take delight in it.