 | Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover |  |
ASK ME NOT WHAT I AM THINKING.
Ask me not what I am thinking—
Why pale sadness sits on my cheek—
Not when the full heart is sinking
Is the fit moment to speak;
Wait—only wait till to-morrow,
When morn on my parting shall shine,
Perchance in thine own silent sorrow,
Thou'lt guess at the meaning of mine.
Why pale sadness sits on my cheek—
Not when the full heart is sinking
Is the fit moment to speak;
Wait—only wait till to-morrow,
When morn on my parting shall shine,
Perchance in thine own silent sorrow,
Thou'lt guess at the meaning of mine.
Haply, at eve, when you wander
Through the bloom and the sweets of thy bowers,
Thy thought of the hand will be fonder
That yesterday gathered thee flowers;
And, though as bright ones be braided
At night in thy rich raven hair,
Thy brow with regret will be shaded
That he who adores is not there.
Through the bloom and the sweets of thy bowers,
Thy thought of the hand will be fonder
That yesterday gathered thee flowers;
And, though as bright ones be braided
At night in thy rich raven hair,
Thy brow with regret will be shaded
That he who adores is not there.
86
And in the ball's mazy measure,
Receiving the homage of smiles,
Vainly the lurings of pleasure
Around thee are spreading their wiles;
There, 'mong the many—a lone one;
Vainly the revel may shine:
'Midst all the mirth—thou'rt mine own one,
Though I am absent—I'm thine!
Receiving the homage of smiles,
Vainly the lurings of pleasure
Around thee are spreading their wiles;
There, 'mong the many—a lone one;
Vainly the revel may shine:
'Midst all the mirth—thou'rt mine own one,
Though I am absent—I'm thine!
| Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover | |