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Oh! say not love was never made
For heart so light as mine;
Must love then seek the cypress shade,
Rear but a gloomy shrine.
Oh! say not, that for me more meet
The revelry of youth;
Or that my wild heart cannot beat
With deep devoted truth.
Tho' mirth may many changes ring,
'Tis but an outward show,
Even upon the fond dove's wing
Will varying colours glow.
Light smiles upon my lip may gleam
And sparkle o'er my brow,
'Tis but the glisten of the stream
That hides the gold below.
'Tis love that gilds the mirthful hour,
That lights the smile for me,
Those smiles would instant lose their power,
Did they not glance on thee!
