A
SONG.
|
|
| |
April,
September,
December,
July,
This year’s love who’ll remember,
When next year’s sun
is high?
But some hearts don’t falter
|
5 |
| |
As
passing suns set,
And tho’ thou’lt surely alter
I’ll cling to thee
yet.
|
|
O
sweet! how sweet we should have met!
O sweet! how sad I can’t forget. |
10 |
| |
My vow
I have broken
This heart thus let free,
And the passion outspoken
I cherish for thee.
Ah! my years may grow dreary
|
15 |
| |
And
darker than jet,
And this soul still more weary
But I’ll think of
thee yet,
|
|
O
sweet! how sweet we should have met!
O sweet! how sad I can’t forget. [Page
82]
|
20 |
| |
The courage is shaken
That bowed to no blast,
And time has o’ertaken
My spirit at last.
But autumn may mellow,
|
25 |
| |
The
branch become sere,
The winter winds bellow
But thou’lt still
be dear.
|
|
O
sweet! how sweet we should have met!
O sweet! how sad I can’t forget. [Page
83]
|
30 |
|
