191 . Á Toi

ALL that I am is Thine,

My body, my heart, my soul;

Thou fillest my life as wine

Filleth a white glass bowl:

Colourless, cold, and thin

But for the wine therein.

Can I say more to Thee?

Nay, there is naught to be said,

Thine am I, living or dead;

Thou art the All for me:

Take but thy love away

I am but dead cold clay.

Fear not my love binds Thee,

What is the Earth to the Sun?

Is it his care that the Sea

Lies dark, when the day is done?

Leave me; Thou art most free,

What is my love to Thee?