 | English melodies |  |
259
OH! ASK NOT IF I LOVE THEE WELL.
Oh! ask not if I love thee well,
For thou dost surely know,
It suits not maiden's lips to tell
They love—though it were so!
Thou with thine own wild doubts must cope;
I dare not say thou 'rt priz'd!—
Nor must I even bid thee hope,—
For Hope is Love disguis'd!
For thou dost surely know,
It suits not maiden's lips to tell
They love—though it were so!
Thou with thine own wild doubts must cope;
I dare not say thou 'rt priz'd!—
Nor must I even bid thee hope,—
For Hope is Love disguis'd!
For there are those who oft will slight,
And many that will scorn;
And love that seems so warm at night,
May die of cold ere morn!
Yet, if thou lov'st to sing to me,
Beside our village spring;
Go, take thy young lute from the tree—
And I will hear thee sing!
And many that will scorn;
And love that seems so warm at night,
May die of cold ere morn!
Yet, if thou lov'st to sing to me,
Beside our village spring;
Go, take thy young lute from the tree—
And I will hear thee sing!
260
Perchance I should not list those chords,
And this, too, may be wrong:
Yet surely if there's harm in words—
There is no harm in song!
And I will hear thee, as of yore,
Sing like a forest dove;
If thou wilt promise never more
To ask me if I love.
And this, too, may be wrong:
Yet surely if there's harm in words—
There is no harm in song!
And I will hear thee, as of yore,
Sing like a forest dove;
If thou wilt promise never more
To ask me if I love.
| English melodies | |