 | Lectures on art, and poems |  |
366
SONG.
O, ask me not why thus I weep;
I may not tell thee why:
The fountain oft is dark and deep
That gushes from the eye.
I may not tell thee why:
The fountain oft is dark and deep
That gushes from the eye.
It should not be, I hear thee say,
While thou art by my side;—
As if the heart could e'er be gay
Of one so soon a bride!
While thou art by my side;—
As if the heart could e'er be gay
Of one so soon a bride!
It is not grief that brings the tear,
Nor dread of coming woe;
But, O, 't is something which I fear
No mortal long may know.
Nor dread of coming woe;
But, O, 't is something which I fear
No mortal long may know.
For when I hear that tone of love,—
Unlike all earthly sound,—
It seems like music from above,
That lifts me from the ground.
Unlike all earthly sound,—
It seems like music from above,
That lifts me from the ground.
And yet I know that I'm of earth,
Where all that live must die:
And these my tears but owe their birth
To bliss for earth too high.
Where all that live must die:
And these my tears but owe their birth
To bliss for earth too high.
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