Id Offer Thee this Hand of Mine
Song by the late Mme. Parepa-Rosa.
I'd offer thee this hand of mine,
If I could love thee less;
But hearts as warm and pure as thine
Should never know distress:
Myfortune is too hard for thee;
Twould chill thy dearest joy;
I'd rather weep to see thee free,
Than win thee to destroy.
I leave thee in thy happiness,
As one too dear to love,
As one I think of but to bless,
As wretchedly I rove;
But O, when sorrows cup I drink,
All bitter though it be,
How sweet 'twill be for me to think
It holds no drop for thee!
And now my dreams are sadly o'er;
Fate bids them all depart;
And I must leave my native short;
In brokenness of heart;
Then O dear one, when far from thee
I ne'er know joy again,
I would not that one thought of me
Should give thy bosom pain.