 | Forest leaves |  |
“I LOVE.”
Oh! do not speak it lightly!
That little word, I love,
Thou dost not know how stern a thing
One simple word may prove;
It is the word of Destiny—
The seal of woman's fate;
And utter'd once, regret and tears,
May come—but come too late.
That little word, I love,
Thou dost not know how stern a thing
One simple word may prove;
It is the word of Destiny—
The seal of woman's fate;
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May come—but come too late.
He unto whom thou breathest
That little thrilling word,
Becomes at once thine arbiter,
And knows himself thy lord;
His foot is on thy sceptre,
His law is on thy soul,
And o'er thy spirit evermore
The tide of his shall roll.
That little thrilling word,
Becomes at once thine arbiter,
And knows himself thy lord;
His foot is on thy sceptre,
His law is on thy soul,
And o'er thy spirit evermore
The tide of his shall roll.
Thenceforth his every heart-pang
Shall quiver through thy breast;
And on thy soul, and on thy fame,
The shade of his shall rest.
Then do not utter lightly
That word of Fate—I love!
Thou dost not know how stern a thing
That little word may prove.
Shall quiver through thy breast;
And on thy soul, and on thy fame,
The shade of his shall rest.
Then do not utter lightly
That word of Fate—I love!
Thou dost not know how stern a thing
That little word may prove.
| Forest leaves | |