|
|
Absent from
thee I languish still; Then ask me not, when I
return? The straying fool 'twill plainly kill To
wish all day, all night to mourn.
Dear! from
thine arms then let me fly, That my fantastic mind
may prove The torments it deserves to try That
tears my fixed heart from my love.
When, wearied
with a world of woe, To thy safe bosom I retire
where love and peace and truth does flow, May I
contented there expire,
Lest, once more wandering
from that heaven, I fall on some base heart unblest,
Faithless to thee, false, unforgiven, And lose my
everlasting rest.
|
|
|