Poems (Osgood)/Your Heart is a Music-Box, Dearest
Jump to navigation
Jump to search
YOUR HEART IS A MUSIC-BOX, DEAREST!
a love song
Your heart is a music-box, dearest!
With exquisite tunes at command,
Of melody sweetest and clearest,
If tried by a delicate hand;
But its workmanship, love, is so fine,
At a single rude touch it would break;
Then oh! be the magic key mine,
Its fairy-like whispers to wake!
And there's one little tune it can play,
That I fancy all others above—
You learn'd it of Cupid one day—
It begins with and ends with "I love!" "I love!"
My heart echoes to it "I love!"
With exquisite tunes at command,
Of melody sweetest and clearest,
If tried by a delicate hand;
But its workmanship, love, is so fine,
At a single rude touch it would break;
Then oh! be the magic key mine,
Its fairy-like whispers to wake!
And there's one little tune it can play,
That I fancy all others above—
You learn'd it of Cupid one day—
It begins with and ends with "I love!" "I love!"
My heart echoes to it "I love!"