Love is All
Where in spring the sweetest flowers
Fill Mount Kaminábi’s bowers,
Where in autumn dyed with red,
Each ancient maple rears its head,
And Aska’s flood, with sedges lin’d,
As a belt the mound doth bind:—
There see my heart—a reed that sways,
Nor aught but love’s swift stream obeys,
And now, if like the dew, dear maid,
Life must fade, then let it fade:—
My secret love is not in vain,
For thou lov’st me back again.