Oh, say not, lady,
That ought could ever
This fond heart sever
From love and thee
Go, bid the billow
Now calm its motion,
The restless ocean
Rest endlessly!
Should'st thou deceive me,—
All earthly blessing,
Not worth possessing,—
Away I'd flee.
And far from home, love—
My lost hopes mourning—
Nor thence returning,—
I'd pray for thee!
And though a stranger
To earthly gladness,
There is a sadness
More glad than mirth,—
The joy of sorrow;
The sweetest pleasure,
A tear-bought treasure
Of heavenly birth!
Though all around me
Were darkness veiling,
Yet light unfailing
In death shall rise!
Though day departeth,
Nor cloud nor sorrow
Shall dim that morrow
In yonder skies!