The garlands fade, the vows are worn away; So dies her love, and so my hopes decay.

Let opening roses knotted oaks adorn, And liquid amber drop from every thorn.

Vital spark of heav'nly flame! Quit, oh quit, this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying, Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!

Say, is not absence death to those who love?