Songs of the unblind cupid . THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. \ HE years roll on, and the head grows grey,But the longing* heart doth ever pray,With a prayer too deep for words to say* Love is the fountain of youth ahvay. Thou art old! mocfcs Love, and hast had thy day*But the heart protesteth: Nay, O nay!My life is love, alway, alway,And the human heart is young for aye* Love is a fountain of youth afavay. Thou art old, saith Love, and thy debt must pay*But the heart makes answer: Nay, O nay!My hunger groweth every day,Grows stronger with eating the years away;Age is for earnest and youth for play,The
Songs of the unblind cupid . THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. \ HE years roll on, and the head grows grey,But the longing* heart doth ever pray,With a prayer too deep for words to say* Love is the fountain of youth ahvay. Thou art old! mocfcs Love, and hast had thy day*But the heart protesteth: Nay, O nay!My life is love, alway, alway,And the human heart is young for aye* Love is a fountain of youth afavay. Thou art old, saith Love, and thy debt must pay*But the heart makes answer: Nay, O nay!My hunger groweth every day,Grows stronger with eating the years away;Age is for earnest and youth for play,The hottest coals neath the ashes stay,And the human heart is young for aye* Love is the fountain of youth ahvay. / c/lfooman is a flovoer—Test her by her fragrance* Six J. MY LITTLE BIRD. H little bird, why flutter in my hand!O little heart, why quiver at my touch!My hands caress would make thee free as air;My touch must leave thy heart as large as love* My hand, O sweet, is not a prison wall,My heart, dear heart, is not a cage for thee,My hand is but another bird to preen,My heart is but a hiding-nest and home* My little bird, press to me heart to heart,Together with me nestle neath the bough,Wing with me infinite blue worlds, afar,Where all the clouds are free and winds are warm* O sing with me, dear bird, the songs of heart,O sing to me, sweet heart, and sing with meOf all the bright thoughts of the upper air,And all the love notes neath the skies of dawn* Why speak of lasted love? Ldbe is a circle, it pays Us o^n debt. The lober is an artist in touch. SEVEN
Size: 1677px × 1489px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookidsongsofunbli, bookyear1899
