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That he would stay his murd'rous dart,
E'en then 'twas rankling in thy heart.
E'en then 'twas rankling in thy heart.
Ah! little did I dream, that thou
Would'st never more arise;
That thou wert summon'd hence to go,
To join her in the skies.
Her whom we both did oft deplore;
But thou wilt weep for her no more,
While my o'erflowing eyes
Must shed unceasing tears of woe,
For where is she? and "where art thou?"
Would'st never more arise;
That thou wert summon'd hence to go,
To join her in the skies.
Her whom we both did oft deplore;
But thou wilt weep for her no more,
While my o'erflowing eyes
Must shed unceasing tears of woe,
For where is she? and "where art thou?"
The sun of May, with balmy breath,
Which thou didst long to see,
Arises on thy bed of death,
But, ah! it wakes not thee!
Which thou didst long to see,
Arises on thy bed of death,
But, ah! it wakes not thee!
