 | Fifty lyrical ballads |  |
HAND IN HAND, LOVE.
Who would snatch from anxious lovers
Hopes, though they be link'd with fears?
Who would raise the mist that hovers
O'er our fate in future years?
Oh! not I! though clouds hang o'er us,
Sunbeams dwell beyond them still;
We'll pass o'er the path before us,
Hand in hand, Love, come what will.
Hopes, though they be link'd with fears?
Who would raise the mist that hovers
O'er our fate in future years?
Oh! not I! though clouds hang o'er us,
Sunbeams dwell beyond them still;
We'll pass o'er the path before us,
Hand in hand, Love, come what will.
No magician's art I covet,
To unfold my future lot;
Dark or light, no spell can move it,
Then 'tis best to know it not.
In the noon of summer weather,
I'll not dread December's chill;
Through the world we'll rove together,
Hand in hand, Love, come what will.
To unfold my future lot;
Dark or light, no spell can move it,
Then 'tis best to know it not.
In the noon of summer weather,
I'll not dread December's chill;
Through the world we'll rove together,
Hand in hand, Love, come what will.
12
E'en the gloomy now and then shall
Own our smiling system right;
Joy, when shared, grows more substantial,
Grief, when shared, becomes more light.
While from Nature's purest flowers
Nought but poison some distil,
We'll seek honey in her bowers,
Hand, in hand, Love, come what will.
Own our smiling system right;
Joy, when shared, grows more substantial,
Grief, when shared, becomes more light.
While from Nature's purest flowers
Nought but poison some distil,
We'll seek honey in her bowers,
Hand, in hand, Love, come what will.
| Fifty lyrical ballads | |