A symphony in pink and blue,A rhapsody of sun and dew,A virgin Venus born anew,Lay Como in the morning.And—"Would to Heaven some Muse divineCould guide this erring pen of mine,"I cried, "to paint such grace as thine,Sweet Como in the morning!"
A symphony in pink and blue,A rhapsody of sun and dew,A virgin Venus born anew,Lay Como in the morning.And—"Would to Heaven some Muse divineCould guide this erring pen of mine,"I cried, "to paint such grace as thine,Sweet Como in the morning!"
A symphony in pink and blue,A rhapsody of sun and dew,A virgin Venus born anew,Lay Como in the morning.
A symphony in pink and blue,
A rhapsody of sun and dew,
A virgin Venus born anew,
Lay Como in the morning.
And—"Would to Heaven some Muse divineCould guide this erring pen of mine,"I cried, "to paint such grace as thine,Sweet Como in the morning!"
And—"Would to Heaven some Muse divine
Could guide this erring pen of mine,"
I cried, "to paint such grace as thine,
Sweet Como in the morning!"
Daybreak. The heavy rumble in the streetOf waggons, journeyed from the sun-baked plains;A laugh, an oath, as chance acquaintance meet;The bark of dogs, the crack of whip and reins;And then, with booming of combined refrains,The ringing, swinging, singing bells of Rome.Sunset, and purple shadows o'er the domeOf sky above St Peter's; and the squareAs silent as a graveyard, and as dumb.Within the church, a peasant deep in prayer;And like a challenge through the languid airThe ringing, swinging, singing bells of Rome.
Daybreak. The heavy rumble in the streetOf waggons, journeyed from the sun-baked plains;A laugh, an oath, as chance acquaintance meet;The bark of dogs, the crack of whip and reins;And then, with booming of combined refrains,The ringing, swinging, singing bells of Rome.Sunset, and purple shadows o'er the domeOf sky above St Peter's; and the squareAs silent as a graveyard, and as dumb.Within the church, a peasant deep in prayer;And like a challenge through the languid airThe ringing, swinging, singing bells of Rome.
Daybreak. The heavy rumble in the streetOf waggons, journeyed from the sun-baked plains;A laugh, an oath, as chance acquaintance meet;The bark of dogs, the crack of whip and reins;And then, with booming of combined refrains,The ringing, swinging, singing bells of Rome.
Daybreak. The heavy rumble in the street
Of waggons, journeyed from the sun-baked plains;
A laugh, an oath, as chance acquaintance meet;
The bark of dogs, the crack of whip and reins;
And then, with booming of combined refrains,
The ringing, swinging, singing bells of Rome.
Sunset, and purple shadows o'er the domeOf sky above St Peter's; and the squareAs silent as a graveyard, and as dumb.Within the church, a peasant deep in prayer;And like a challenge through the languid airThe ringing, swinging, singing bells of Rome.
Sunset, and purple shadows o'er the dome
Of sky above St Peter's; and the square
As silent as a graveyard, and as dumb.
Within the church, a peasant deep in prayer;
And like a challenge through the languid air
The ringing, swinging, singing bells of Rome.
The day is warm and mellow,The fields are gold and yellow,And in the misty distanceThe hills are purple blue.The Spring is up and stirring,The pheasant's wing is whirring,And there is nothing lackingIn all the world, but you.
The day is warm and mellow,The fields are gold and yellow,And in the misty distanceThe hills are purple blue.The Spring is up and stirring,The pheasant's wing is whirring,And there is nothing lackingIn all the world, but you.
The day is warm and mellow,The fields are gold and yellow,And in the misty distanceThe hills are purple blue.
The day is warm and mellow,
The fields are gold and yellow,
And in the misty distance
The hills are purple blue.
The Spring is up and stirring,The pheasant's wing is whirring,And there is nothing lackingIn all the world, but you.
The Spring is up and stirring,
The pheasant's wing is whirring,
And there is nothing lacking
In all the world, but you.
Our hopes are like the mountains that arise,And to our dim, imperfect, human eyesSeem in their splendid height to touch the skies.Yet when we've toiled up, many a weary day,We find the summit, desolate and grey,And lo! the Heavens, still smiling, far away.
Our hopes are like the mountains that arise,And to our dim, imperfect, human eyesSeem in their splendid height to touch the skies.Yet when we've toiled up, many a weary day,We find the summit, desolate and grey,And lo! the Heavens, still smiling, far away.
Our hopes are like the mountains that arise,And to our dim, imperfect, human eyesSeem in their splendid height to touch the skies.
Our hopes are like the mountains that arise,
And to our dim, imperfect, human eyes
Seem in their splendid height to touch the skies.
Yet when we've toiled up, many a weary day,We find the summit, desolate and grey,And lo! the Heavens, still smiling, far away.
Yet when we've toiled up, many a weary day,
We find the summit, desolate and grey,
And lo! the Heavens, still smiling, far away.
Ah, dear! how memory stirs,Of meadows and soft-voiced thrushesOf winds that sang amid firs,Or piped on the cool, damp rushes.Of twilights and early dawns,And times when the earth is fairest;Of gardens with dewy lawns,And flowers when their scent is rarest.Of noontide and humming bees,That gather the love of roses;Of night-time and sighing trees,And clouds where the moon reposes.And, dearest,—of just we two,Alone in this world of splendour,Where everything lived for you,In glorious, sweet surrender.
Ah, dear! how memory stirs,Of meadows and soft-voiced thrushesOf winds that sang amid firs,Or piped on the cool, damp rushes.Of twilights and early dawns,And times when the earth is fairest;Of gardens with dewy lawns,And flowers when their scent is rarest.Of noontide and humming bees,That gather the love of roses;Of night-time and sighing trees,And clouds where the moon reposes.And, dearest,—of just we two,Alone in this world of splendour,Where everything lived for you,In glorious, sweet surrender.
Ah, dear! how memory stirs,Of meadows and soft-voiced thrushesOf winds that sang amid firs,Or piped on the cool, damp rushes.
Ah, dear! how memory stirs,
Of meadows and soft-voiced thrushes
Of winds that sang amid firs,
Or piped on the cool, damp rushes.
Of twilights and early dawns,And times when the earth is fairest;Of gardens with dewy lawns,And flowers when their scent is rarest.
Of twilights and early dawns,
And times when the earth is fairest;
Of gardens with dewy lawns,
And flowers when their scent is rarest.
Of noontide and humming bees,That gather the love of roses;Of night-time and sighing trees,And clouds where the moon reposes.
Of noontide and humming bees,
That gather the love of roses;
Of night-time and sighing trees,
And clouds where the moon reposes.
And, dearest,—of just we two,Alone in this world of splendour,Where everything lived for you,In glorious, sweet surrender.
And, dearest,—of just we two,
Alone in this world of splendour,
Where everything lived for you,
In glorious, sweet surrender.
Oh, river! sweet river, how placidly you wander,Yet bearing on your bosom so many lovers' vows;Cannot the throb of passion arouse one wave in answer,Or stir to sighing cadence your silent willow boughs?Must always—for ever, your brow be smooth and tranquil,Though hearts may break in anguish, or burn with ecstasy?Is there no secret message that may arouse your wonderAt all this vast emotion that thrills Eternity?Some day though, oh, river! you too shall feel the magicOf all your depths awakened, of every tide set free;Remember us in that time, we loving ones who sought you,When you have left the meadows for the embracing sea!
Oh, river! sweet river, how placidly you wander,Yet bearing on your bosom so many lovers' vows;Cannot the throb of passion arouse one wave in answer,Or stir to sighing cadence your silent willow boughs?Must always—for ever, your brow be smooth and tranquil,Though hearts may break in anguish, or burn with ecstasy?Is there no secret message that may arouse your wonderAt all this vast emotion that thrills Eternity?Some day though, oh, river! you too shall feel the magicOf all your depths awakened, of every tide set free;Remember us in that time, we loving ones who sought you,When you have left the meadows for the embracing sea!
Oh, river! sweet river, how placidly you wander,Yet bearing on your bosom so many lovers' vows;Cannot the throb of passion arouse one wave in answer,Or stir to sighing cadence your silent willow boughs?
Oh, river! sweet river, how placidly you wander,
Yet bearing on your bosom so many lovers' vows;
Cannot the throb of passion arouse one wave in answer,
Or stir to sighing cadence your silent willow boughs?
Must always—for ever, your brow be smooth and tranquil,Though hearts may break in anguish, or burn with ecstasy?Is there no secret message that may arouse your wonderAt all this vast emotion that thrills Eternity?
Must always—for ever, your brow be smooth and tranquil,
Though hearts may break in anguish, or burn with ecstasy?
Is there no secret message that may arouse your wonder
At all this vast emotion that thrills Eternity?
Some day though, oh, river! you too shall feel the magicOf all your depths awakened, of every tide set free;Remember us in that time, we loving ones who sought you,When you have left the meadows for the embracing sea!
Some day though, oh, river! you too shall feel the magic
Of all your depths awakened, of every tide set free;
Remember us in that time, we loving ones who sought you,
When you have left the meadows for the embracing sea!
Let not the morning break ere I shall say"Thou art the Sun that brightens all the day,Thou art the Rose that perfumes all the air,Thou art the Soul of all that is most fair."Let not the evening fall ere I shall say"Thou art the Star that guides me on my way,Thou art the Moon whose beams are everywhere,Thou art my rest, my blessing, and my prayer."
Let not the morning break ere I shall say"Thou art the Sun that brightens all the day,Thou art the Rose that perfumes all the air,Thou art the Soul of all that is most fair."Let not the evening fall ere I shall say"Thou art the Star that guides me on my way,Thou art the Moon whose beams are everywhere,Thou art my rest, my blessing, and my prayer."
Let not the morning break ere I shall say"Thou art the Sun that brightens all the day,Thou art the Rose that perfumes all the air,Thou art the Soul of all that is most fair."
Let not the morning break ere I shall say
"Thou art the Sun that brightens all the day,
Thou art the Rose that perfumes all the air,
Thou art the Soul of all that is most fair."
Let not the evening fall ere I shall say"Thou art the Star that guides me on my way,Thou art the Moon whose beams are everywhere,Thou art my rest, my blessing, and my prayer."
Let not the evening fall ere I shall say
"Thou art the Star that guides me on my way,
Thou art the Moon whose beams are everywhere,
Thou art my rest, my blessing, and my prayer."
Shall I complain because the rainHas spoiled the flowers?Shall I despair because the airIs damp with showers?Shall I forget, that even yetNew buds will spring?And shall I sigh while still there's byOne bird to sing?
Shall I complain because the rainHas spoiled the flowers?Shall I despair because the airIs damp with showers?Shall I forget, that even yetNew buds will spring?And shall I sigh while still there's byOne bird to sing?
Shall I complain because the rainHas spoiled the flowers?Shall I despair because the airIs damp with showers?
Shall I complain because the rain
Has spoiled the flowers?
Shall I despair because the air
Is damp with showers?
Shall I forget, that even yetNew buds will spring?And shall I sigh while still there's byOne bird to sing?
Shall I forget, that even yet
New buds will spring?
And shall I sigh while still there's by
One bird to sing?
But, let me tell you all I feel,And then, if you must still denyNo tears shall dim my sight, no sighShall pass my lips, I'll only kneelBefore you in the dust and say,"Tread on me, as you go your way."
But, let me tell you all I feel,And then, if you must still denyNo tears shall dim my sight, no sighShall pass my lips, I'll only kneelBefore you in the dust and say,"Tread on me, as you go your way."
But, let me tell you all I feel,And then, if you must still denyNo tears shall dim my sight, no sighShall pass my lips, I'll only kneelBefore you in the dust and say,"Tread on me, as you go your way."
But, let me tell you all I feel,
And then, if you must still deny
No tears shall dim my sight, no sigh
Shall pass my lips, I'll only kneel
Before you in the dust and say,
"Tread on me, as you go your way."
Sweet Mistress Spring, all decked in green,How fresh you look this morning;'Tis sure a year since we have seenSuch flowers your brow adorning.And will you come and walk with me?I'll prove an ardent lover,Beneath the boughs of some kind treeWe'll seek convenient cover.There will I praise with light refrainYour most enchanting weather,While you shall make a daisy chain,To bind our hearts together.
Sweet Mistress Spring, all decked in green,How fresh you look this morning;'Tis sure a year since we have seenSuch flowers your brow adorning.And will you come and walk with me?I'll prove an ardent lover,Beneath the boughs of some kind treeWe'll seek convenient cover.There will I praise with light refrainYour most enchanting weather,While you shall make a daisy chain,To bind our hearts together.
Sweet Mistress Spring, all decked in green,How fresh you look this morning;'Tis sure a year since we have seenSuch flowers your brow adorning.
Sweet Mistress Spring, all decked in green,
How fresh you look this morning;
'Tis sure a year since we have seen
Such flowers your brow adorning.
And will you come and walk with me?I'll prove an ardent lover,Beneath the boughs of some kind treeWe'll seek convenient cover.
And will you come and walk with me?
I'll prove an ardent lover,
Beneath the boughs of some kind tree
We'll seek convenient cover.
There will I praise with light refrainYour most enchanting weather,While you shall make a daisy chain,To bind our hearts together.
There will I praise with light refrain
Your most enchanting weather,
While you shall make a daisy chain,
To bind our hearts together.
There's something wrong with the world to-day,What can it be, what can it be?The morn is at six, and the year's at May,So mayhap that something is wrong with me.But there's something wrong,With the joyous songOf the thrush in the apple-tree.There's something gone from my heart I trow!That then is why, that then is whyThe flower seems dead on the orchard bough,And never a sunbeam is in the sky.There's something gone,And the light of the dawnIs the dimmer when you're not by.
There's something wrong with the world to-day,What can it be, what can it be?The morn is at six, and the year's at May,So mayhap that something is wrong with me.But there's something wrong,With the joyous songOf the thrush in the apple-tree.There's something gone from my heart I trow!That then is why, that then is whyThe flower seems dead on the orchard bough,And never a sunbeam is in the sky.There's something gone,And the light of the dawnIs the dimmer when you're not by.
There's something wrong with the world to-day,What can it be, what can it be?The morn is at six, and the year's at May,So mayhap that something is wrong with me.But there's something wrong,With the joyous songOf the thrush in the apple-tree.
There's something wrong with the world to-day,
What can it be, what can it be?
The morn is at six, and the year's at May,
So mayhap that something is wrong with me.
But there's something wrong,
With the joyous song
Of the thrush in the apple-tree.
There's something gone from my heart I trow!That then is why, that then is whyThe flower seems dead on the orchard bough,And never a sunbeam is in the sky.There's something gone,And the light of the dawnIs the dimmer when you're not by.
There's something gone from my heart I trow!
That then is why, that then is why
The flower seems dead on the orchard bough,
And never a sunbeam is in the sky.
There's something gone,
And the light of the dawn
Is the dimmer when you're not by.
Gentle Dame PriscillaAt her wheel is singing,Singing of her lover, very far away.Would I were that lover,From my hiding springingI would stop her singing in my own fond way.Gentle Dame PriscillaAt her wheel is spinningFancies of her lover, who has gone to sea.Would I were that lover,Honey-tongued and winning,It were then no sinning though I kissed her free.
Gentle Dame PriscillaAt her wheel is singing,Singing of her lover, very far away.Would I were that lover,From my hiding springingI would stop her singing in my own fond way.Gentle Dame PriscillaAt her wheel is spinningFancies of her lover, who has gone to sea.Would I were that lover,Honey-tongued and winning,It were then no sinning though I kissed her free.
Gentle Dame PriscillaAt her wheel is singing,Singing of her lover, very far away.Would I were that lover,From my hiding springingI would stop her singing in my own fond way.
Gentle Dame Priscilla
At her wheel is singing,
Singing of her lover, very far away.
Would I were that lover,
From my hiding springing
I would stop her singing in my own fond way.
Gentle Dame PriscillaAt her wheel is spinningFancies of her lover, who has gone to sea.Would I were that lover,Honey-tongued and winning,It were then no sinning though I kissed her free.
Gentle Dame Priscilla
At her wheel is spinning
Fancies of her lover, who has gone to sea.
Would I were that lover,
Honey-tongued and winning,
It were then no sinning though I kissed her free.
Oh Nightingale, has that pale star heard youSobbing your passion into a song?Has she deigned to stoop from her throne of splendour,Deigned to pity your life's surrender,Deigned to throw you a beam-smile tender,You who have waited and loved so long?Oh Nightingale, is your wondrous musicCleaving the depths of the dark apart,Born of a hope that is wearily dying?Is she ever and aye denyingThat for which you are always sighing?Do you sing with a broken heart?
Oh Nightingale, has that pale star heard youSobbing your passion into a song?Has she deigned to stoop from her throne of splendour,Deigned to pity your life's surrender,Deigned to throw you a beam-smile tender,You who have waited and loved so long?Oh Nightingale, is your wondrous musicCleaving the depths of the dark apart,Born of a hope that is wearily dying?Is she ever and aye denyingThat for which you are always sighing?Do you sing with a broken heart?
Oh Nightingale, has that pale star heard youSobbing your passion into a song?Has she deigned to stoop from her throne of splendour,Deigned to pity your life's surrender,Deigned to throw you a beam-smile tender,You who have waited and loved so long?
Oh Nightingale, has that pale star heard you
Sobbing your passion into a song?
Has she deigned to stoop from her throne of splendour,
Deigned to pity your life's surrender,
Deigned to throw you a beam-smile tender,
You who have waited and loved so long?
Oh Nightingale, is your wondrous musicCleaving the depths of the dark apart,Born of a hope that is wearily dying?Is she ever and aye denyingThat for which you are always sighing?Do you sing with a broken heart?
Oh Nightingale, is your wondrous music
Cleaving the depths of the dark apart,
Born of a hope that is wearily dying?
Is she ever and aye denying
That for which you are always sighing?
Do you sing with a broken heart?
Wind and mist of the upland places,Thrill and hush of the cloud-swept spaces,Glow of sky that the sun embraces,Over a world of dew.Purple-dusk of the sweet Scotch heather,Golden gorse, in the summer weather,Hand in hand, you and I together,If it were only true!
Wind and mist of the upland places,Thrill and hush of the cloud-swept spaces,Glow of sky that the sun embraces,Over a world of dew.Purple-dusk of the sweet Scotch heather,Golden gorse, in the summer weather,Hand in hand, you and I together,If it were only true!
Wind and mist of the upland places,Thrill and hush of the cloud-swept spaces,Glow of sky that the sun embraces,Over a world of dew.
Wind and mist of the upland places,
Thrill and hush of the cloud-swept spaces,
Glow of sky that the sun embraces,
Over a world of dew.
Purple-dusk of the sweet Scotch heather,Golden gorse, in the summer weather,Hand in hand, you and I together,If it were only true!
Purple-dusk of the sweet Scotch heather,
Golden gorse, in the summer weather,
Hand in hand, you and I together,
If it were only true!
To-day is a bumper of golden wine,Drink deep, deep, deep!While the earth is green, and the cup is thine,For there cometh an hour when a man must weep,And there cometh a time when a man must sleep,So drink deep, deep, deep.
To-day is a bumper of golden wine,Drink deep, deep, deep!While the earth is green, and the cup is thine,For there cometh an hour when a man must weep,And there cometh a time when a man must sleep,So drink deep, deep, deep.
To-day is a bumper of golden wine,Drink deep, deep, deep!While the earth is green, and the cup is thine,For there cometh an hour when a man must weep,And there cometh a time when a man must sleep,So drink deep, deep, deep.
To-day is a bumper of golden wine,
Drink deep, deep, deep!
While the earth is green, and the cup is thine,
For there cometh an hour when a man must weep,
And there cometh a time when a man must sleep,
So drink deep, deep, deep.
Love lifted up his eyes to mine,And in their depth did I beholdA flame, so potent yet divineThat all the world besides seemed cold."Dear love," I cried, "come enter inAnd warm my heart with living fire."Love answered, "First cast out the sinAnd rid my dwelling of desire."
Love lifted up his eyes to mine,And in their depth did I beholdA flame, so potent yet divineThat all the world besides seemed cold."Dear love," I cried, "come enter inAnd warm my heart with living fire."Love answered, "First cast out the sinAnd rid my dwelling of desire."
Love lifted up his eyes to mine,And in their depth did I beholdA flame, so potent yet divineThat all the world besides seemed cold.
Love lifted up his eyes to mine,
And in their depth did I behold
A flame, so potent yet divine
That all the world besides seemed cold.
"Dear love," I cried, "come enter inAnd warm my heart with living fire."Love answered, "First cast out the sinAnd rid my dwelling of desire."
"Dear love," I cried, "come enter in
And warm my heart with living fire."
Love answered, "First cast out the sin
And rid my dwelling of desire."
I looked up! you were standing there close beside me,And just for a second our glances met,And lingered, and mingled, and mingled yet.I went on: you had turned and the spell was broken.My temples throbbed, and my hands were cold.I was longing, hopeless, and almost old.
I looked up! you were standing there close beside me,And just for a second our glances met,And lingered, and mingled, and mingled yet.I went on: you had turned and the spell was broken.My temples throbbed, and my hands were cold.I was longing, hopeless, and almost old.
I looked up! you were standing there close beside me,And just for a second our glances met,And lingered, and mingled, and mingled yet.
I looked up! you were standing there close beside me,
And just for a second our glances met,
And lingered, and mingled, and mingled yet.
I went on: you had turned and the spell was broken.My temples throbbed, and my hands were cold.I was longing, hopeless, and almost old.
I went on: you had turned and the spell was broken.
My temples throbbed, and my hands were cold.
I was longing, hopeless, and almost old.
It is the Spring!And what could beSo sweet a thingAs early SpringIn Italy?To make the boon more wondrous rareYou've caught the sunlight in your hair,And, happy slave, it dances there.To steal the splendour from the skies,You draw their colour to your eyes,Like deep blue lakes of Paradise.It is the Spring!And what could beSo sweet a thingAs early SpringIn Italy,And you with me!
It is the Spring!And what could beSo sweet a thingAs early SpringIn Italy?To make the boon more wondrous rareYou've caught the sunlight in your hair,And, happy slave, it dances there.To steal the splendour from the skies,You draw their colour to your eyes,Like deep blue lakes of Paradise.It is the Spring!And what could beSo sweet a thingAs early SpringIn Italy,And you with me!
It is the Spring!And what could beSo sweet a thingAs early SpringIn Italy?
It is the Spring!
And what could be
So sweet a thing
As early Spring
In Italy?
To make the boon more wondrous rareYou've caught the sunlight in your hair,And, happy slave, it dances there.
To make the boon more wondrous rare
You've caught the sunlight in your hair,
And, happy slave, it dances there.
To steal the splendour from the skies,You draw their colour to your eyes,Like deep blue lakes of Paradise.
To steal the splendour from the skies,
You draw their colour to your eyes,
Like deep blue lakes of Paradise.
It is the Spring!And what could beSo sweet a thingAs early SpringIn Italy,And you with me!
It is the Spring!
And what could be
So sweet a thing
As early Spring
In Italy,
And you with me!
Oh! the awful pity of it all,That I ever learned to care for you,That we ever chanced to meet at all,Since we neither of us could be true.
Oh! the awful pity of it all,That I ever learned to care for you,That we ever chanced to meet at all,Since we neither of us could be true.
Oh! the awful pity of it all,That I ever learned to care for you,That we ever chanced to meet at all,Since we neither of us could be true.
Oh! the awful pity of it all,
That I ever learned to care for you,
That we ever chanced to meet at all,
Since we neither of us could be true.
"I am a garden, alone, alone!Oh little Swallow pity me.Over my paths have the lichens grown,Oh little Swallow pity me.Down by the river the reeds are dank,Close to the portal the grass is rank;Nettles take birth on the lily bank.Oh little Swallow pity me."Once in the earliest days She came,Oh little Swallow pity me,Sowing the seeds of my after fame,Oh little Swallow pity me.Beautiful hands she had, and lo!All that they touched would thrill and growUp to the sun of her eyes, aglow,Oh little Swallow pity me."Beautiful feet she had, that fellOh little Swallow pity me,Like the caress of one loved well,Oh little Swallow pity me.Over the lawn at the twilight hourSometimes she wandered to pluck a flower,Sometimes she paused in the jasmine bower.Oh little Swallow pity me."Then she would speak to me, sweet my own!Oh little Swallow pity me,Words from her heart to my heart alone,Oh little Swallow pity me.Tender, and ardent, and secret things,Sprang to her lips, as the water springsUp from the earth where the blue mist clings.Oh little Swallow pity me."I am a garden grown desolate,Oh little Swallow pity me.I of them all, will remember yet,Oh little Swallow pity me.Summer may come and summer may go,I of them all who have known her, knowLove cannot die, though the loved one go.Oh little Swallow pity me!"
"I am a garden, alone, alone!Oh little Swallow pity me.Over my paths have the lichens grown,Oh little Swallow pity me.Down by the river the reeds are dank,Close to the portal the grass is rank;Nettles take birth on the lily bank.Oh little Swallow pity me."Once in the earliest days She came,Oh little Swallow pity me,Sowing the seeds of my after fame,Oh little Swallow pity me.Beautiful hands she had, and lo!All that they touched would thrill and growUp to the sun of her eyes, aglow,Oh little Swallow pity me."Beautiful feet she had, that fellOh little Swallow pity me,Like the caress of one loved well,Oh little Swallow pity me.Over the lawn at the twilight hourSometimes she wandered to pluck a flower,Sometimes she paused in the jasmine bower.Oh little Swallow pity me."Then she would speak to me, sweet my own!Oh little Swallow pity me,Words from her heart to my heart alone,Oh little Swallow pity me.Tender, and ardent, and secret things,Sprang to her lips, as the water springsUp from the earth where the blue mist clings.Oh little Swallow pity me."I am a garden grown desolate,Oh little Swallow pity me.I of them all, will remember yet,Oh little Swallow pity me.Summer may come and summer may go,I of them all who have known her, knowLove cannot die, though the loved one go.Oh little Swallow pity me!"
"I am a garden, alone, alone!Oh little Swallow pity me.Over my paths have the lichens grown,Oh little Swallow pity me.Down by the river the reeds are dank,Close to the portal the grass is rank;Nettles take birth on the lily bank.Oh little Swallow pity me.
"I am a garden, alone, alone!
Oh little Swallow pity me.
Over my paths have the lichens grown,
Oh little Swallow pity me.
Down by the river the reeds are dank,
Close to the portal the grass is rank;
Nettles take birth on the lily bank.
Oh little Swallow pity me.
"Once in the earliest days She came,Oh little Swallow pity me,Sowing the seeds of my after fame,Oh little Swallow pity me.Beautiful hands she had, and lo!All that they touched would thrill and growUp to the sun of her eyes, aglow,Oh little Swallow pity me.
"Once in the earliest days She came,
Oh little Swallow pity me,
Sowing the seeds of my after fame,
Oh little Swallow pity me.
Beautiful hands she had, and lo!
All that they touched would thrill and grow
Up to the sun of her eyes, aglow,
Oh little Swallow pity me.
"Beautiful feet she had, that fellOh little Swallow pity me,Like the caress of one loved well,Oh little Swallow pity me.Over the lawn at the twilight hourSometimes she wandered to pluck a flower,Sometimes she paused in the jasmine bower.Oh little Swallow pity me.
"Beautiful feet she had, that fell
Oh little Swallow pity me,
Like the caress of one loved well,
Oh little Swallow pity me.
Over the lawn at the twilight hour
Sometimes she wandered to pluck a flower,
Sometimes she paused in the jasmine bower.
Oh little Swallow pity me.
"Then she would speak to me, sweet my own!Oh little Swallow pity me,Words from her heart to my heart alone,Oh little Swallow pity me.Tender, and ardent, and secret things,Sprang to her lips, as the water springsUp from the earth where the blue mist clings.Oh little Swallow pity me.
"Then she would speak to me, sweet my own!
Oh little Swallow pity me,
Words from her heart to my heart alone,
Oh little Swallow pity me.
Tender, and ardent, and secret things,
Sprang to her lips, as the water springs
Up from the earth where the blue mist clings.
Oh little Swallow pity me.
"I am a garden grown desolate,Oh little Swallow pity me.I of them all, will remember yet,Oh little Swallow pity me.Summer may come and summer may go,I of them all who have known her, knowLove cannot die, though the loved one go.Oh little Swallow pity me!"
"I am a garden grown desolate,
Oh little Swallow pity me.
I of them all, will remember yet,
Oh little Swallow pity me.
Summer may come and summer may go,
I of them all who have known her, know
Love cannot die, though the loved one go.
Oh little Swallow pity me!"
I asked you for your love again,And I presumed too much it seemed.The happiness of which I dreamedWas but a jest, to laugh at then?A trifle, that your wanton eyesBeheld, yet would not recognise."I will be just your friend," I said,"'Twere better thus to be contentThan everlasting banishment."You scarcely paused to turn your head.Not needed, I had ceased to beA thing for your utility!I went my way, as others do.These are not days to rant, and weep.What pain there was I buried deep,Together with my thoughts of you;And in that grave they lie apart,Unmourned, save by a breaking heart.
I asked you for your love again,And I presumed too much it seemed.The happiness of which I dreamedWas but a jest, to laugh at then?A trifle, that your wanton eyesBeheld, yet would not recognise."I will be just your friend," I said,"'Twere better thus to be contentThan everlasting banishment."You scarcely paused to turn your head.Not needed, I had ceased to beA thing for your utility!I went my way, as others do.These are not days to rant, and weep.What pain there was I buried deep,Together with my thoughts of you;And in that grave they lie apart,Unmourned, save by a breaking heart.
I asked you for your love again,And I presumed too much it seemed.The happiness of which I dreamedWas but a jest, to laugh at then?A trifle, that your wanton eyesBeheld, yet would not recognise.
I asked you for your love again,
And I presumed too much it seemed.
The happiness of which I dreamed
Was but a jest, to laugh at then?
A trifle, that your wanton eyes
Beheld, yet would not recognise.
"I will be just your friend," I said,"'Twere better thus to be contentThan everlasting banishment."You scarcely paused to turn your head.Not needed, I had ceased to beA thing for your utility!
"I will be just your friend," I said,
"'Twere better thus to be content
Than everlasting banishment."
You scarcely paused to turn your head.
Not needed, I had ceased to be
A thing for your utility!
I went my way, as others do.These are not days to rant, and weep.What pain there was I buried deep,Together with my thoughts of you;And in that grave they lie apart,Unmourned, save by a breaking heart.
I went my way, as others do.
These are not days to rant, and weep.
What pain there was I buried deep,
Together with my thoughts of you;
And in that grave they lie apart,
Unmourned, save by a breaking heart.
How dare you cease to be my friend!You who have held my heart and mindWithin your hand, a spell combinedOf passion and the joys that rendCast over all that once was me,I would not if I could, go free.I tell you to the depth of Hell,My spirit, following in your wake,Shall suffer for its folly's sakeThose torments which are yours, and dwellBeside you through Eternity.
How dare you cease to be my friend!You who have held my heart and mindWithin your hand, a spell combinedOf passion and the joys that rendCast over all that once was me,I would not if I could, go free.I tell you to the depth of Hell,My spirit, following in your wake,Shall suffer for its folly's sakeThose torments which are yours, and dwellBeside you through Eternity.
How dare you cease to be my friend!You who have held my heart and mindWithin your hand, a spell combinedOf passion and the joys that rendCast over all that once was me,I would not if I could, go free.I tell you to the depth of Hell,My spirit, following in your wake,Shall suffer for its folly's sakeThose torments which are yours, and dwellBeside you through Eternity.
How dare you cease to be my friend!
You who have held my heart and mind
Within your hand, a spell combined
Of passion and the joys that rend
Cast over all that once was me,
I would not if I could, go free.
I tell you to the depth of Hell,
My spirit, following in your wake,
Shall suffer for its folly's sake
Those torments which are yours, and dwell
Beside you through Eternity.