WHO calls me bold because I won my love,
And did not pine,
And waste my life with secret pain, but strove
To make him mine?
I us-d no arts; -t was Nature-s self that taught
My eye to speak,
And bid the burning blush to paint unsought
My flashing cheek;
That made my voice to tremble when I bid
My love -Goodby,â?
So weak that every other sound was hid,
Except a sigh.
Oh, was it wrong to use the truth I knew,
That hearts are mov-d,
And spring warm-struck with life and love anew,
By being lov-d?
One night there came a tear, that, big and loth,
Stole -neath my brow.
-T was thus I won my heart-s own heart, and both
Are happy now.
Song
William Cosmo Monkhouse
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Poem topics: goodby, happy, nature, night, pain, spring, truth, voice, weak, bold, tear, wrong, speak, secret, warm, waste, sound, heart, life, love, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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