GIVE ME THY HEART.
207
Mourn not the dead!—Their sins are all forgiven;
No bitter memories haunt their being now,
From them no more shall cherished ties be riven,
Nor agonies o'ercloud the hopeless brow.
Ah! who ill this cold world would dwell forever,
To mourn for things the world cannot restore?
To see, day after day, fate's rude hand sever
Fond hearts to be again united never?—
Weep for the dead no more!
No bitter memories haunt their being now,
From them no more shall cherished ties be riven,
Nor agonies o'ercloud the hopeless brow.
Ah! who ill this cold world would dwell forever,
To mourn for things the world cannot restore?
To see, day after day, fate's rude hand sever
Fond hearts to be again united never?—
Weep for the dead no more!
Tears for the living! Pray for the awaking
From cherished dreams that all too quickly fly;
Better the heart should break at once, than breaking
From day to day, sink slowly down and die.
Who would not sooner die, than see each token
Of young affection pass in dust away?
Or hear from once loved lips the cold words spoken
That leave the worn-out heart all bruised and broken?—
Pray for the living, pray!
From cherished dreams that all too quickly fly;
Better the heart should break at once, than breaking
From day to day, sink slowly down and die.
Who would not sooner die, than see each token
Of young affection pass in dust away?
Or hear from once loved lips the cold words spoken
That leave the worn-out heart all bruised and broken?—
Pray for the living, pray!
GIVE ME THY HEART.
In youth's glad morn, when the young heart is full
Of love for all the world—when earth is bright
With many flowers, and heaven is beautiful
With the magnificent glories of the night;
Of love for all the world—when earth is bright
With many flowers, and heaven is beautiful
With the magnificent glories of the night;
