 | Areytos or songs and ballads of the South |  |
BALLAD.—OH! NOT TO YON GROVE!
Oh! not to yon grove!
Oh! not by that tree!
These have been sacred to Love,
Sweet, and how sacred to me!
Lead me not there! Oh, lead me not there!
There, oh, there should I greet
Shadows of glories that fast,
As they were sweet—how sweet!—
Fled with the past—the past—
Fled when most beautiful—fled, leaving me desolate here.
Oh! not by that tree!
These have been sacred to Love,
Sweet, and how sacred to me!
Lead me not there! Oh, lead me not there!
There, oh, there should I greet
Shadows of glories that fast,
As they were sweet—how sweet!—
Fled with the past—the past—
Fled when most beautiful—fled, leaving me desolate here.
Oh! never that song
Breathe again in mine ear;
For a sweet season 'twas long,
Ever the sweetest to hear:
Breathe it, I pray thee, no more! Oh, breathe it no more!
Would'st thou, cruel, recall
The horror, agony, blight,
That followed so terribly, all,
That last—delirious night,
When the song was hush'd in the shriek, and for me all the music was o'er?
Breathe again in mine ear;
For a sweet season 'twas long,
Ever the sweetest to hear:
Breathe it, I pray thee, no more! Oh, breathe it no more!
Would'st thou, cruel, recall
The horror, agony, blight,
That followed so terribly, all,
That last—delirious night,
When the song was hush'd in the shriek, and for me all the music was o'er?
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Go, if thou wilt, to yon grove;
Read, if thou wilt, on yon tree;
These are too sacred to love
Not to be terrors to me—
The heart that is blighted forever reads never the record of blight.
Never again may these eyes
The trophies of sorrow explore;
I know that the beautiful dies,
Let me know nothing more!
Lead me not thither, I pray thee, it were a death to my sight!
Read, if thou wilt, on yon tree;
These are too sacred to love
Not to be terrors to me—
The heart that is blighted forever reads never the record of blight.
Never again may these eyes
The trophies of sorrow explore;
I know that the beautiful dies,
Let me know nothing more!
Lead me not thither, I pray thee, it were a death to my sight!
| Areytos or songs and ballads of the South | |