O LOVE will make the leal heart ache That never ached before; And meek or merry eyes 'twill make With solemn tears run o'er. In tears we parted tenderly, My Love and I lang syne; And evermore she vowed to be Mine own, aye mine, all mine! Sing O the tree is blossoming, But the worm is at the root; And many a darling flower of Spring Will never come to fruit. We meet now in the streets of life; All gone, the old sweet charms; At my side leans a loving Wife; She -- passes Babe-in-arms. |