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a song.
And thou shalt shrink in sadness
From all the splendor there,
And curse the revel's gladness,
And hate the banquet's glare,
And pine, 'mid Passion's madness,
For true Love's purer air,
And feel thou'dst give their wildest glee
For one unsullied sigh from me!
From all the splendor there,
And curse the revel's gladness,
And hate the banquet's glare,
And pine, 'mid Passion's madness,
For true Love's purer air,
And feel thou'dst give their wildest glee
For one unsullied sigh from me!
Yet deem not this my prayer, love,
Ah! no! if I could keep
Thy alter'd heart from care, love,
And charm its griefs to sleep,
Mine only should despair, love,
I—I alone would weep!
I—I alone would mourn the flowers
That fade in Love's deserted bowers!
Ah! no! if I could keep
Thy alter'd heart from care, love,
And charm its griefs to sleep,
Mine only should despair, love,
I—I alone would weep!
I—I alone would mourn the flowers
That fade in Love's deserted bowers!
