by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
The faithful lover
Language: English
She hath grown cold, whose kindness won me to her, Wherefore is this? Wishing them more, I find her favours fewer. What is amiss? Shall I complain? O, no! true love complains not, Being denied. Shall I disdain? O, no! true love disdains not, Only false pride. If, when she liked, to love my friendship flowered, With too fond haste, Say why should hers, to scorn injurious soured, As sudden waste? Shall I less love her for her heart's denial? Nay, year by year, Since she is worthy, thou shalt find thy trial Daily more dear; Till, it may be, the faithful spirit in thee, Fresh from love's fast, Out of her eyes his look of looks shall win thee, Lover, at last.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Charles Hubert Hastings Parry, Sir (1848 - 1918), "The faithful lover", 1910-8, published 1920, from the collection English Lyrics, Eleventh Set, no. 5. [text verified 1 time]
Researcher for this page: Ted Perry
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 20
Word count: 123