Think of, O heart, some remedy
To cure this chronic malady.
Bless O mind! you pine in vain
For me he has no love serene.
0 mind, why pine and sit moody?
Who made you so pale lacks pity.
Take these eyes and meet him, O heart
Or their hunger will eat me out.
He spurns our love and yet, O mind,
Can we desert him as unkind?
Wrath is false, O heart, face-to-face.
Sans huff, you rush to his sweet embrace.
Off with love O mind, or shame
1 cannot endure both of them.
Without pity he would depart
You sigh and seek his favour, poor heart!
The lover lives in Self you know;
Whom you think, mind, to whom you go?
Without a thought he deserted us
To think of him will make us worse.
SOLILOQUY
