 | Twelve wongs written at Boulogne-Sur-Mer |  |
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Twelve Songs WRITTEN AT BOULOGNE-SUR-MER.
THE HEART IS NOT YET BROKEN!
The heart is not yet broken!
The harp not yet unstrung!
“Despair!” hath not been spoken,
Though trembling on my tongue!
Though Fate hath now bereft me
Of blessings—past recall;
I mourn not, she hath left me
Thy love, more dear than all!
The harp not yet unstrung!
“Despair!” hath not been spoken,
Though trembling on my tongue!
Though Fate hath now bereft me
Of blessings—past recall;
I mourn not, she hath left me
Thy love, more dear than all!
My heart too well remembers
My boyhood's home of mirth,
Methinks I see the embers
Still blazing on the hearth!
My song of youth—I hear it
Still echo thro' the hall!
'Tis gone—but I can bear it!
Thy love atones for all!
My boyhood's home of mirth,
Methinks I see the embers
Still blazing on the hearth!
My song of youth—I hear it
Still echo thro' the hall!
'Tis gone—but I can bear it!
Thy love atones for all!
A stranger owns the meadow,
The scene of sportive plays,
The trees, beneath whose shadow
I pass'd bright summer days:
O'er fond hopes crush'd so early
Some secret tears must fall—
But loving thee so dearly,
Thy love atones for all.
The scene of sportive plays,
The trees, beneath whose shadow
I pass'd bright summer days:
O'er fond hopes crush'd so early
Some secret tears must fall—
But loving thee so dearly,
Thy love atones for all.
Boulogne, December 18th 1831.
| Twelve wongs written at Boulogne-Sur-Mer | |