98
songs.
III.
We must silence, with words of cold reason,
The eloquent voice of the heart;
For Love hath stayed out his brief season,
And spread his young wing to depart!
Though awhile round our memory he hovers,
He may smilingly offer no more
Fond words, the ambrosia of lovers,
Nor the nectar of passion outpour.
The eloquent voice of the heart;
For Love hath stayed out his brief season,
And spread his young wing to depart!
Though awhile round our memory he hovers,
He may smilingly offer no more
Fond words, the ambrosia of lovers,
Nor the nectar of passion outpour.
Our last tearful farewell is spoken,
Life's sweet morning-vision hath flown!
Each vow, each glad promise, is broken,
That twined our twin beings in one!
And severed are love's golden fetters,
And sympathy's silvery chain;
So please, Sir, return me my letters,
I may wish to use them again!
Life's sweet morning-vision hath flown!
Each vow, each glad promise, is broken,
That twined our twin beings in one!
And severed are love's golden fetters,
And sympathy's silvery chain;
So please, Sir, return me my letters,
I may wish to use them again!
