Dost thou remember that place so lonely, A place for lovers and lovers only, Where first I told thee all my secret sighs? When, as the moonbeam that trembled o'er thee Illumed thy blushes, I knelt before thee, And read my hope's sweet triumph in those eyes? Then, then, while closely heart was drawn to heart, Love bound us--never, never more to part! And when I called thee by names the dearest That love could fancy, the fondest, nearest,-- "My life, my only life!" among the rest; In those sweet accents that still enthral me, Thou saidst, "Ah!" wherefore thy life thus call me? "Thy soul, thy soul's the name I love best; "For life soon passes,--but how blest to be "That Soul which never, never parts from thee!"
- by Thomas Moore (1779 - 1852), "Dost thou remember", subtitle: "Portuguese air" [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
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- Also set in Danish (Dansk), a translation by Emil Aarestrup (1800 - 1856) , "Kan du erindre, bag grønne Grene" ; composed by Valdemar Fini Henriques.
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2011-05-06
Line count: 16
Word count: 129