COME to me, Love; forget each sordid duty That chains thy footsteps to the crowded mart, Come, look with me upon earth's summer beauty, And let its influence cheer thy weary heart. Come to me, Love! Come to me, Love; the voice of song is swelling From nature's harp in every varied tone, And many a voice of bird and bee is telling A tale of joy amid the forests lone; Come to me, Love! Come to me, Love; my heart can never doubt thee, Yet for thy sweet companionship I pine; Oh, never more can joy be joy without thee, My pleasures, even as my life, are thine; Come to me, Love! |