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I feel it in the tone
That thrilled thy low reply,
As thy warm lip, beside my own,
Responded sigh for sigh.
That thrilled thy low reply,
As thy warm lip, beside my own,
Responded sigh for sigh.
I love thee not, but O!
If we had met in youth,
When first we dreamed of passion's glow,
Its fervor and its truth,
Perhaps it had been mine,
With whispers soft and low,
To place my little hand in thine,
And murmur vow for vow.
If we had met in youth,
When first we dreamed of passion's glow,
Its fervor and its truth,
Perhaps it had been mine,
With whispers soft and low,
To place my little hand in thine,
And murmur vow for vow.
Dear one! for dear thou art,
Thou know'st it is not mine,
To lift the veil from this deep heart
Nor yet to gaze in thine,
But O! were I to speak
Of all I hope and fear,
Even thou would'st scarcely deem it weak,
To give me tear for tear.
Thou know'st it is not mine,
To lift the veil from this deep heart
Nor yet to gaze in thine,
But O! were I to speak
Of all I hope and fear,
Even thou would'st scarcely deem it weak,
To give me tear for tear.
