4 songs

The kiss, dear maid, thy lip has left,
Shall never part from mine,
Till happier hours restore the gift
Untainted back to thine.

Thy parting glance, which fondly beams,
An equal love, may see;
[That]1 tear that from thine eyelid streams
Can weep no change in me.

I ask no pledge to make me blest
In gazing when alone;
Nor one memorial for a breast
Whose thoughts are all thine own.

Nor need I write - to tell the tale
My pen were doubly weak:
Oh! What can idle words avail,
Unless the heart could speak?

By day or night, in weal or woe,
[That]2 heart, no longer free,
Must bear the love it cannot show,
And silent ache for thee.