 | Songs of Killarney |  |
169
MIGHT LOVING MAIDS.
IRISH MELODY.
Might loving maids confess
Their bosoms' dear distress,
To youths as fond-avowed could they but speak,
The words of my adieu
Had not been light and few;
The smile had turned to tears upon my cheek.
Their bosoms' dear distress,
To youths as fond-avowed could they but speak,
The words of my adieu
Had not been light and few;
The smile had turned to tears upon my cheek.
O yes! might maidens tell
With their last wild farewell,
How truest hearts oft ache unclaimed behind,
I who so dearly loved
Had not seemed all unmoved
Toward thee—my own true love confessed were fortune kind.
With their last wild farewell,
How truest hearts oft ache unclaimed behind,
170
Had not seemed all unmoved
Toward thee—my own true love confessed were fortune kind.
Yet though perforce we part,
Ere faithful heart to heart
Could own the tender rapture each inspired,
Absence will but approve
The honour of thy love,
And make my hope the more to be desired.
Ere faithful heart to heart
Could own the tender rapture each inspired,
Absence will but approve
The honour of thy love,
And make my hope the more to be desired.
Yes! though perforce we part,
Ere faithful heart to heart
Could own the tender rapture each inspired,
Absence will but approve
The honour of thy love,
And make my hope in thee the more to be desired.
Ere faithful heart to heart
Could own the tender rapture each inspired,
Absence will but approve
The honour of thy love,
And make my hope in thee the more to be desired.
| Songs of Killarney | |