E'er be turned to me?
Ah, laughing child, when your eyes beam bright,
And lips are parted in girlish glee;
When the shore is glad in still summer night,
With your sweet soft smile, and your laughter light,
Do you smile on me?
When the moon is up, and sleeps the land
To tender music in minor key;
When the silver-ripples hush the strand
And scarcely dimple the golden sand,