 | The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury |  |
277
COME TO ME, LOVE.
Come to me, love; forget each sordid duty
That chains thy footsteps to the crowded mart;
Come, look with me upon earth's summer beauty'
And let its influence cheer thy weary heart:
Come to me, love!
That chains thy footsteps to the crowded mart;
Come, look with me upon earth's summer beauty'
And let its influence cheer thy weary heart:
Come to me, love!
Come to me, love; the voice of song is swelling
From nature's harp in every varied tone,
And many a voice of bird and bee is telling
A tale of joy amid the forests lone:
Come to me, love!
From nature's harp in every varied tone,
And many a voice of bird and bee is telling
A tale of joy amid the forests lone:
Come to me, love!
Come to me, love; my heart can never doubt thee,
Yet for thy sweet companionship I pine;
O, never more can joy be joy without thee;
My pleasures, even as my life, are thine:
Come to me, love!
Yet for thy sweet companionship I pine;
O, never more can joy be joy without thee;
My pleasures, even as my life, are thine:
Come to me, love!
| The poems of Mrs. Emma Catherine Embury | |