Life and I are lovers, straying
  Arm in arm along:
Often like two children Maying,
  Full of mirth and song,

Life plucks all the blooming hours
  Growing by the way;
Binds them on my brow like flowers,
  Calls me Queen of May.

Then again, in rainy weather,
  We sit vis-a-vis,
Planning work we'll do together
  In the years to be.

Sometimes Life denies me blisses,
  And I frown or pout;
But we make it up with kisses
  Ere the day is out.

Woman-like, I sometimes grieve him,
  Try his trust and faith,
Saying I shall one day leave him
  For his rival, Death.

Then he always grows more zealous,
  Tender, and more true;
Loves the more for being jealous,
  As all lovers do.

Though I swear by stars above him,
  And by worlds beyond,
That I love him--love him--love him;
  Though my heart is fond;

Though he gives me, doth my lover,
  Kisses with each breath -
I shall one day throw him over,
  And plight troth with Death.