a love-letter.
That mind may speak through beauty's eye,
Though lip may not the look belie.
Though lip may not the look belie.
Oh! tell me, idol of my soul,
If this fond prayer of mine,
Concent'ring all my hopes in life,
Is still unheard in thine?
For I would rather die than live,
To leave the hopes thy words can give.
If this fond prayer of mine,
Concent'ring all my hopes in life,
Is still unheard in thine?
For I would rather die than live,
To leave the hopes thy words can give.
69
