EVER BEFORE ME.
From the opera of 'Poor Jonathan.'
To me it seems as tho' 'twere yesterday.
Ever before me is the light, lingering still, of days so bright,
When she, a child in blossoming May-time,
I found midst violets, a beauteous sight.
Now has the maid so lovely grown.
Speechless I gaze on her alone;
I'd ask her trembling, gently dissembling,
If she her heart had yet found out;
What they would tell thee, ne'er could I utter,
Verily ne'er could I tell myself -
Hidden the feeling, past all revealing.
All seems to me as tho' 'twere a dream,
Ever, ever a dream, still a dream-
Yes, let me still dream in love most blest;
Let peace but dwell here in my breast;
Soon will the day send forth its bright ray;
Then will I hear what fond love may say'!
Not vet, maybe; Maybe, not yet;
I cannot tell myself; I answer ne'er can make, ne'er can make.
Wilt thou still dream in quiet rest.
While hope still slumbers in my breast?
When will the day send forth its bright ray?
When wilt thou hear what fond love may say?
Lovest thou not? Art thou beloved!
Tell but the truth e'en tho' the heart do break;
Art thou beloved? lovest thou not?
Tell me the truth e'en tho' my heart do break,
E'en tho' my heart do break, heart do break.