by Anonymous / Unidentified Author

Shall I strive with words to move
Language: English 
Shall I strive with words to move,
When deeds receive not due regard?
Shall I speak, and neither please,
Nor be freely heard?

Grief, alas, though all in vain,
Her restless anguish must reveal:
She alone my wound shall know,
Though she will not heal.

All woes have end,
though awhile delay'd,
Our patience proving.
O that Time's strange effects
Could but make, but make her loving.

Storms calm at last,
and why may not she
Leave off her frowning?
O sweet Love, help her hands
My affection crowning.

I woo'd her, I lov'd her,
and none but her admire.
O come, dear joy,
And answer my desire.

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 text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 22
Word count: 108