A LOVE-LETTER
I doat on all the whispered tones
That tell my heart of thee,
And everything that bears a trace
Of what thou art to me:
Dearer than aught this earth could give,
For thee I'd die—for thee I live.
That tell my heart of thee,
And everything that bears a trace
Of what thou art to me:
Dearer than aught this earth could give,
For thee I'd die—for thee I live.
There's not a flower that e'er I knew
Was lovely in thy sight,
And not a star that ever shone
Beneath the shades of night,
But I would love and cherish ever,
That heart and soul might live together.
Was lovely in thy sight,
And not a star that ever shone
Beneath the shades of night,
But I would love and cherish ever,
That heart and soul might live together.
There's not a look, or tone of thine,
Untreasured in my heart;
Thy smiles and blushes, too, are mine—
Of memory a part.
Untreasured in my heart;
Thy smiles and blushes, too, are mine—
Of memory a part.
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