My pent-up tears oppress my brain,
My heart is swol'n with love unsaid;
Ah! let me weep and tell my pain
And on thy shoulder rest my head!

Before I die, before the soul,
Which now is mine, must re-attain
Immunity from my control
And wander, wander round the world again;

Before this teased, o'er-laboured heart
forever leaves its vain employ,
Dead to its deep habitual smart
And dead to hopes of future joy.