My Love Is Sad
My love is “fill’d with gloom,” you say;
Yet think! when I had spied her,
The flowers that made her bower so gay
Had lost their light beside her.
Ah, could my darling see it so,
And gloomy seem? No, no; no, no.
My love is weary, wandering;
Yet I, who sped to find her
With worlds of fancies on the wing,
Saw all fall far behind her.
Ah, could my darling see it so,
And weary seem? No, no; no, no.
My love is lone and weeps, I see;
Yet here I wait to win her,
For what is all the world to me,
My arms are clasping in her.
Ah, could my darling see it so,
And lonely seem? No, no; no, no.