And the magic flow
Of his talk, the bliss
In the clasp of his hand,
And, ah, his kiss!
My peace is gone,
My heart is sore;
I never shall find it,
Ah, nevermore!
My bosom yearns
For him alone;
And the magic flow
Of his talk, the bliss
In the clasp of his hand,
And, ah, his kiss!
My peace is gone,
My heart is sore;
I never shall find it,
Ah, nevermore!
My bosom yearns
For him alone;