 | Letters and Works (1861) |  |
498
SONG.
[Blame not that love, too cruel fair]
Blame not that love, too cruel fair,
Which your own charms did first create;
Blame not my silence and despair,—
Such crimes can ne'er deserve your hate:
Why should your eyes first stir desire?
Your matchless wit, why fan the fire?
Repentance comes too late.
Which your own charms did first create;
Blame not my silence and despair,—
Such crimes can ne'er deserve your hate:
Why should your eyes first stir desire?
Your matchless wit, why fan the fire?
Repentance comes too late.
Vain are the vows that you complain
Are to another fondly made;
All your advice to me's as vain;
You must not—cannot be obey'd;
My heart can't change, though you command,
Nor can my heart obey your hand!
Love's power none can evade!
Are to another fondly made;
All your advice to me's as vain;
You must not—cannot be obey'd;
My heart can't change, though you command,
Nor can my heart obey your hand!
Love's power none can evade!
| Letters and Works (1861) | |