Plaint

I too would run like Nicolette Down aisles of rose and mignonette, And stain my knees with midnight dew Passing the ghostly gardens through, If I should know that loverly Young Aucassin awaited me!

And I could leave without regret My warm white bed like Nicolette, And flee from roof and candle-light Into the deepest hour of night, If by the ivy-shadowed wall, I knew that Aucassin would call.

But I'll not tremble in the wet. Nor bruise my feet like Nicolette, Only to dream of his embrace, Only to think I see his face. Feel nothing sweeter on my mouth Than heedless wind lips from the south, Only to stand unloved, alone, And listen to the fountain moan From stone to unresponsive stone.