 | Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover |  |
MY GENTLE LUTE.
My gentle lute, alone with thee
I wake thy saddest tone,
It seems as if thou mourn'st with me
For hours of gladness gone.
If, haply, 'mongst thy wailing strings
My finger lightly fall,
Some vision of the past it brings
Of days we can't recall.
I wake thy saddest tone,
It seems as if thou mourn'st with me
For hours of gladness gone.
If, haply, 'mongst thy wailing strings
My finger lightly fall,
Some vision of the past it brings
Of days we can't recall.
My gentle lute how oft have we
Beneath the moonlight ray,
To beauty's ear breath'd harmony
In many a love-taught lay!
But she who loved—and he who sung
Are changed, my lute, and thou,
That oft to lays of love hast rung,
Must tell of sorrow now.
Beneath the moonlight ray,
To beauty's ear breath'd harmony
In many a love-taught lay!
But she who loved—and he who sung
Are changed, my lute, and thou,
That oft to lays of love hast rung,
Must tell of sorrow now.
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Some happier hand in future hours
May wake thy liveliest string,
And wreathe thee o'er, my lute, with flow'rs
As I did—in my spring.
But yield, till then, before we part,
Thy saddest tone to me,
And let thy mourning master's heart
An echo find in thee.
May wake thy liveliest string,
And wreathe thee o'er, my lute, with flow'rs
As I did—in my spring.
But yield, till then, before we part,
Thy saddest tone to me,
And let thy mourning master's heart
An echo find in thee.
| Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover | |