Love Hath No Place In Her, Though In Her Bosom Be Love-Thoughts And Dreams That Stir Longings That Know Not Me: Love Hath No Place In Her, No Place For Me. Never Within Her Eyes Do I The Love-Light See; Never Her Soul Replies To The Sad Soul In Me: Never With Soul And Eyes Speaks She To Me. She Is A Star, A Rose, I But A Moth, A Bee; High In Her Heaven She Glows, Blooms Far Away From Me: She Is A Star, A Rose, Never For Me. Why Will I Think Of Her To My Heart'S Misery? Dreaming How Sweet It Were Had She A Thought Of Me: Why Will I Think Of Her! Why, Why, Ah Me!