Is it nothing to walk with a heart that's broken
Through days that grow longer than happy years?
O the worth of earth's gold may be spoken, spoken
But the worth of the heart is not told in tears!
Through days that grow longer than happy years?
O the worth of earth's gold may be spoken, spoken
But the worth of the heart is not told in tears!
And what would men say if they knew it, knew it?
"They would say to his hurt, his hurt, his hurt,"
Sang the birds and the roses, the brook trilled through it:
"O men would say, 'He's a flirt, a flirt.'"
"They would say to his hurt, his hurt, his hurt,"
Sang the birds and the roses, the brook trilled through it:
"O men would say, 'He's a flirt, a flirt.'"
But God looks down on that sunset city
(The God of nature, of joy and grief)
On the broken bird with a father's pity
And God knows his earth has no baser thief.
(The God of nature, of joy and grief)
On the broken bird with a father's pity
And God knows his earth has no baser thief.
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