Sweet Love, Good-Night to Thee.
The exile leaves his native land
With sad and tearful eye,
He thinks upon his village home,
And heaves a bitter sigh.
But, ah! he feels not half the grief
That now is felt by me,
As when I falter out the words,
Sweet love, good-night to thee.
The miser views his golden store,
With joy it fills his heart,
His sordid mind is pained to see
One single coin depart.
Then let me be a miser, too,
Thy smiles are gold to me,
Ne'er let another voice repeat,
Sweet love, good night to thee.