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With a semblance of her hair
And the sweetness of her crown,
A resemblance of my love
Is within a woodland grown
The down-casting of her gaze
And her modesty of air,
Just as the Sandersae
‘midst the moss is growing there
.I see the face I love
In this flower I have known,
‘tis the echo of my heart
In the silence that is strewn.
As I traverse in the snows
Through her drops of silent mood
The likeness of her grows
Through the tresses of the wood.
Passages and glades
Reach deeper shades of peace
Where the heart of my beloved
Sings her song in silences.