VIII.
Sing to me, therefore, sing or speak!
Wake my dull heart to happiness;
Perchance my pulses are too weak
To stir with all this sweet excess!
Perhaps the sudden spring has come
Too soon, and found my spirit dumb!
Howe’er it be, my heart is cold,
No echo stirs within my brain,
To me, too suddenly grown old,
This beauty speaks in vain!
IX.
Why are you silent? Lo! to-day
It is not as it once hath been;
I cannot sit the old sweet way,
Absorbed, contented, and serene;
I cannot feel my heart rejoice,
I crave the comfort of your voice!
Speak, speak! remind me of the past!
Let my spent embers at your fire
Revive and kindle, till at last
Delight surpass desire!