WHY IS IT.
The peaceful moon is shining,
In heaven’s vaulted dome;
The stars around her shining,
Like sisters of one home.
Why, oh why, poor heart of mine,
Art thou troubled and dost pine?
Upon the glassy lake’s surface
A swan majestic swims;
Rushes in this quiet place
Obey the zephyr's whims.
Why, oh why, poor heart of mine,
Art thou troubled and dost pine?
A pretty pigeon flutters,
Soft cooing, to his dove;
Mother swallow chirping flutters,
Seeking food for her love.
Why, oh why, poor heart of mine,
Art thou troubled and dost pine?
Day and night I pass in anguish,
In an endless warfare;
Nothing pleases me; I languish,
And my heart is in despair.
Why, oh why, poor heart of mine,
Art thou troubled and dost pine?
The melancholy nightingale
Is singing of his pain;
I too have lost my love and wail—
My tears they fall like rain.
This is the reason, heart of mine,
That thou art troubled and dost pine.
