Soft o'er the fountain, Ling'ring falls the southern moon;
Far o'er the mountain, Breaks the day—too soon¡
In thy dark eyes' splendor, Where the warm light loves to dwell,
Weary looks—yet tender—Speak their fond farewell!
Nita¡ Juanita! Ask thy soul if we should part.
Nita! Juanita! Lean thou on my heart.
When in thy dreaming Moons like these shall shine again
And daylight beaming Prove thy dreams are vain;
Wilt thou not relenting For thine absent lover sigh,
In thy heart consenting—To a pray'r gone by?
Nita! Juanita! Ask thy soul if we should part.
Nita! Juanita! Lean thou on my heart.