OH SING ME NO NEW SONGS TO-NIGHT.
I
Oh, sing me no new songs to-night:
Repeat the plaintive strain,
My favourite air in former years,—
Come sing it once again.
Sweet thoughts that slumber'd start to life,
And give my heart relief;
And though I weep to hear that song,
'Tis not the tear of grief.
II
Her precious record of the past
Fond memory oft conceals,
But music with her master key
The hidden volume steals;
The loves, the friends, the hopes of youth
Are stored in every leaf,
Oh, if I weep to hear that song,
'Tis not the tear of grief