Imperatrix

Am I pleasant? Tell me that, old Wise! Let me look into your eyes, To see if you can comprehend my beauty, That is a lover's duty. I look at you to see If you can think of anything but me. Ah, you remember praise and your philosophy! My love shall be a sphere of silence and of light, Where Love is all alone with love's delight. —

Here is a woodcutter who is so weak With love of me, he cannot speak. Tell me, dumb man, am I pleasant, am I pleasant? Farewell, philosopher! I love a peasant.