Lost love
Language: English 
A hundred times I kissed the lips
Of my young love and true;
Now over her mouth the slow tide slips,
And where went down a hundred ships,
Went down my kisses too.

A hundred times I called to her
With a cry full long and sore,
But never more shall her spirit stir,
And never up from the wild water
Shall come my young love more.

Text Authorship:

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):


Researcher for this page: Joost van der Linden [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2025-12-10
Line count: 10
Word count: 67