Poems (Edwards)/"Ne'er can My Heart be Thine"
Appearance
"NE'ER CAN MY HEART BE THINE."
You may talk to me of a fairer clime,
You may talk of a warmer sky,
Where the flowers are bright, and the summer breeze
Like the breath of joy goes by;
Where the clear bright streams, like silver threads
In the glorious sunlight shine;
These flowers and rills allure me not,
For "ne'er can my heart be thine."
You may talk of a warmer sky,
Where the flowers are bright, and the summer breeze
Like the breath of joy goes by;
Where the clear bright streams, like silver threads
In the glorious sunlight shine;
These flowers and rills allure me not,
For "ne'er can my heart be thine."
You may tell me in truth of a costly home,
Of a home in your southern land,
You may say that vassals around my seat
In servile fear shall stand;
You may tell me that blossoms of joy and hope
Around me shall ever twine,
But I heed it not, I heed it not,
For "ne'er can my heart be thine."
Of a home in your southern land,
You may say that vassals around my seat
In servile fear shall stand;
You may tell me that blossoms of joy and hope
Around me shall ever twine,
But I heed it not, I heed it not,
For "ne'er can my heart be thine."
You may tell me that jewels shall deck my brow,
That pearls shall gem my hair,
And you promise that joy, and hope, and love,
Shall attend me everywhere;
You say that a high and a holy lot,
And all you have are mine,
When my hand is yours, but no, Oh no!
For "ne'er can my heart be thine."
That pearls shall gem my hair,
And you promise that joy, and hope, and love,
Shall attend me everywhere;
You say that a high and a holy lot,
And all you have are mine,
When my hand is yours, but no, Oh no!
For "ne'er can my heart be thine."
I know of a home and a heart I love,
Tho' low and unknown they be,
And the home that I love will yet be mine,
And that heart will cling to me;
Aye, cling to me like the ivy branch
That clings to the forest pine;
Then go to thy home in the summer clime,
For "ne'er can my heart be thine."
Tho' low and unknown they be,
And the home that I love will yet be mine,
And that heart will cling to me;
Aye, cling to me like the ivy branch
That clings to the forest pine;
Then go to thy home in the summer clime,
For "ne'er can my heart be thine."