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There's a sleek thrush sits in the apple-tree
When it blooms all over with rosy snow,
And hark! how he opens his heart to me,
Till its inmost hopes and desires I know!
Blow, wind, blow,
For the thrush will fly when the bloom must go.
When it blooms all over with rosy snow,
And hark! how he opens his heart to me,
Till its inmost hopes and desires I know!
Blow, wind, blow,
For the thrush will fly when the bloom must go.
O a friend I had, and I loved him well,
And his heart was open and sang to mine,
And it pains me more than I choose to tell,
That he cares no more if I laugh or pine.
Friend of mine,
Can the music fade out of love like thine!
And his heart was open and sang to mine,
And it pains me more than I choose to tell,
That he cares no more if I laugh or pine.
Friend of mine,
Can the music fade out of love like thine!
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