 | Areytos or songs and ballads of the South |  |
BALLAD.—THE SIGH THAT SAYS.
The sigh that says our love is vain
Would teach us not to sigh again,
But that it would not pain the less
To part with such a sweet distress!
Would teach us not to sigh again,
But that it would not pain the less
To part with such a sweet distress!
If this be true, 'tis not in vain
We feed the fire, and nurse the pain,
With hope of no success, but this,
To keep the faith, not win the bliss!
We feed the fire, and nurse the pain,
With hope of no success, but this,
To keep the faith, not win the bliss!
We know that never more shall ours
Be the sweet couch we spread of flowers!
No more the fire, so dear below,
Shall warm the hearts that bade it glow!
Be the sweet couch we spread of flowers!
No more the fire, so dear below,
Shall warm the hearts that bade it glow!
Yet that the flowers are fresh and fair,
Fed by fond smiles and heavenly air,
That bright ascends the holy flame
That we may neither hope to claim:
Fed by fond smiles and heavenly air,
That bright ascends the holy flame
That we may neither hope to claim:
This is a rapture mid the wo,
That soothes with sweetest overflow!
And, though our hopes bring no success,
Nor you, nor I, would have them less!
That soothes with sweetest overflow!
And, though our hopes bring no success,
Nor you, nor I, would have them less!
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Nor you, nor I, though taught to know
That we may meet no more below,
Would have that mournful passion gone,
That leaves us two, yet made us one!
That we may meet no more below,
Would have that mournful passion gone,
That leaves us two, yet made us one!
Within thy bosom, still my shrine,
I feel thy altar-place in mine!
Our faith still bless'd by tendance sweet—
Of love—though we no more may meet!
I feel thy altar-place in mine!
Our faith still bless'd by tendance sweet—
Of love—though we no more may meet!
| Areytos or songs and ballads of the South | |