 | Art and Fashion |  |
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BLAME ME NOT.
They blame this changeless brow of care,
This silent woe they blame:
They little know how sweet's despair,
If it but breathe thy name!
They little think how passing dear
Is sadness unto me;
How sweet the sorrow, sweet the tear,
In silence shed for thee!
This silent woe they blame:
They little know how sweet's despair,
If it but breathe thy name!
They little think how passing dear
Is sadness unto me;
How sweet the sorrow, sweet the tear,
In silence shed for thee!
Life hath no home, no hope, no love—
The dove hath lost her ark—
The very face of heaven above
Seems hopeless now and dark:
Yet little think they, still how dear
Is sadness unto me—
How sweet the sorrow, sweet the tear,
In silence shed for thee!
The dove hath lost her ark—
The very face of heaven above
Seems hopeless now and dark:
Yet little think they, still how dear
Is sadness unto me—
How sweet the sorrow, sweet the tear,
In silence shed for thee!
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