 | The Harp of Erin |  |
THE SENSITIVE LINNET.
My fond social linnet, to thee
What dear winning charms did belong!
On my hand thou wouldst carol with glee,
On my bosom attend to my song.
Sweet bird, in return for my strain,
Thou warbled'st thy own o'er again.
What dear winning charms did belong!
On my hand thou wouldst carol with glee,
On my bosom attend to my song.
Sweet bird, in return for my strain,
Thou warbled'st thy own o'er again.
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Love, jealous a bird should thus share
My affections, shot speedy his dart:
To my swain now I sung ev'ry air;
The linnet soon took it to heart.
Sweet bird, in how plaintive a strain
Thou warbled'st thy own jealous pain!
My affections, shot speedy his dart:
To my swain now I sung ev'ry air;
The linnet soon took it to heart.
Sweet bird, in how plaintive a strain
Thou warbled'st thy own jealous pain!
But faithless my lover I found;
And in vain to forget him I tried:
The linnet perceiv'd my heart's wound;
He sicken'd, he droop'd, and he died.
Sweet bird, why to death yield the strain?
Thy song would have lighten'd my pain.
And in vain to forget him I tried:
The linnet perceiv'd my heart's wound;
He sicken'd, he droop'd, and he died.
Sweet bird, why to death yield the strain?
Thy song would have lighten'd my pain.
Dear linnet, I'll pillow thy head;
In down will I coffin thy breast;
And when thy sad mistress is dead,
Together in peace we will rest.
Sweet bird, how ill-fated our strain!
We shall warble, alas! ne'er again.
In down will I coffin thy breast;
And when thy sad mistress is dead,
Together in peace we will rest.
Sweet bird, how ill-fated our strain!
We shall warble, alas! ne'er again.
| The Harp of Erin | |