Poems by Hartley Coleridge With a Memoir of his Life by his Brother. In Two Volumes |
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SONG. |
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 | Poems by Hartley Coleridge |  |
224
SONG.
You ask me to sing—I'd be glad if I could
Sing like a thrush in the underwood,
Like a twinkling lark that sings up in the sky,
Or a swan that sings only when going to die.
Ere now I have sung, when my heart was young,
Like cock-crow loud and clearly,
But I cannot sing now, I protest, I vow,
Because I love you dearly.
Sing like a thrush in the underwood,
Like a twinkling lark that sings up in the sky,
Or a swan that sings only when going to die.
Ere now I have sung, when my heart was young,
Like cock-crow loud and clearly,
But I cannot sing now, I protest, I vow,
Because I love you dearly.
Could I sing like a syren—but that would I not,
Could I sing like a minstrel whose name is forgot,
But whose strain is a treasure which all men may borrow,
To harmonise joy and to sweeten their sorrow,
Oh, then I would sing to my dear, dear thing,
Like cock-crow loud and clearly,
But I cannot sing now, I protest, I vow,
Because I love you dearly.
Could I sing like a minstrel whose name is forgot,
But whose strain is a treasure which all men may borrow,
To harmonise joy and to sweeten their sorrow,
Oh, then I would sing to my dear, dear thing,
Like cock-crow loud and clearly,
But I cannot sing now, I protest, I vow,
Because I love you dearly.
225
Could I sing what I feel, and express by a note
How justly esteeming, how fondly I dote,
Then would music no more be a nice thing of art,
But as in old time the true voice of the heart.
I could sing all day long—sing song after song,
Like an angel singing clearly,
But I cannot sing now, I protest, I vow,
Because I love you dearly.
How justly esteeming, how fondly I dote,
Then would music no more be a nice thing of art,
But as in old time the true voice of the heart.
I could sing all day long—sing song after song,
Like an angel singing clearly,
But I cannot sing now, I protest, I vow,
Because I love you dearly.
| Poems by Hartley Coleridge | |