what shall we love?
Shall we love the deep midnight,
Its silence-breathing calm,
Its myriad stars so bright,
In the dew of evening balm?
Ah! no; the heart's affections range,
As midnight scenes for ever change.
Its silence-breathing calm,
Its myriad stars so bright,
In the dew of evening balm?
Ah! no; the heart's affections range,
As midnight scenes for ever change.
Shall we love the form of grace?
Shall we love the deep, dark eye,
As the smile of love we trace,
Like a sunbeam hovering nigh?
Shall we love the fair, sweet face,
Once so fondly gazed upon?
Shall we weep the shortened race
Of so bright—so dear a one!
Oh! love not the things that fade away,
Nor weep for blossoms of decay.
Shall we love the deep, dark eye,
As the smile of love we trace,
Like a sunbeam hovering nigh?
Shall we love the fair, sweet face,
Once so fondly gazed upon?
Shall we weep the shortened race
Of so bright—so dear a one!
Oh! love not the things that fade away,
Nor weep for blossoms of decay.
If thou lov'st those things of bliss,
In the sunshine of thy heart,
Let thy soul remember this—
They must, they will depart.
In the sunshine of thy heart,
Let thy soul remember this—
They must, they will depart.
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