 | Beads from a Rosary |  |
76
SONG.
Oh, pray believe it, dearest!
My love for thee must ever
Flow deeply, calmly, surely on,
Like some deep flowing river.
It is not of those fickle loves,
That die of their own lightness—
Like stars that burn, though storms return,
'Twill keep it's ancient brightness.
My love for thee must ever
Flow deeply, calmly, surely on,
Like some deep flowing river.
It is not of those fickle loves,
That die of their own lightness—
Like stars that burn, though storms return,
'Twill keep it's ancient brightness.
Oh, pray believe it, dearest!
This poor heart ne'er can falter—
'Tis fetter'd by so firm a spell,
It lacks the power to alter.
Then chase the shadow from thy brow,
And let thy laugh sound cheerly—
Though worse than vain, I'll say again,
Sweet life, I love thee dearly.
This poor heart ne'er can falter—
'Tis fetter'd by so firm a spell,
It lacks the power to alter.
Then chase the shadow from thy brow,
And let thy laugh sound cheerly—
Though worse than vain, I'll say again,
Sweet life, I love thee dearly.
| Beads from a Rosary | |