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to rose.
To Rose.
O thou, whose sympathy in darkest hours,
Was to my soul as dew to dying flowers
Must I say this farewell?
I scarce can realize it yet,
And wonder if you'll soon forget,
Or love me, dear, as well.
Was to my soul as dew to dying flowers
Must I say this farewell?
I scarce can realize it yet,
And wonder if you'll soon forget,
Or love me, dear, as well.
Where shall I go when heart and brain
Are overwhelmed with care and pain,
And pour my sorrows out?
What ear will listen pityingly?
What voice will answer tenderly
Cheer up, dear, do not doubt?
Are overwhelmed with care and pain,
And pour my sorrows out?
What ear will listen pityingly?
What voice will answer tenderly
Cheer up, dear, do not doubt?
There are many in yon distant land,
Who will come with smile and open hand,
Dearest, to welcome you.
But let not these usurp my place,
Or the old memory efface
Of love so pure and true.
Who will come with smile and open hand,
Dearest, to welcome you.
But let not these usurp my place,
Or the old memory efface
Of love so pure and true.
