alice.
Or the deep impassioned glancing
Of those soft eyes into mine?
Of those soft eyes into mine?
Could I hear the trembling toning
Of thy sweet voice thrilling near,
And believe that thou wouldst leave me
Thus heart-broken, Alice dear?
Of thy sweet voice thrilling near,
And believe that thou wouldst leave me
Thus heart-broken, Alice dear?
It is vain: I'll ne'er forget thee;
By fond memories of yore,
By each heart-beat of a passion,
Living, loving, evermore.
By fond memories of yore,
By each heart-beat of a passion,
Living, loving, evermore.
147
