The smile of his mouth,
The might of his eye,
And, when he speaks,
What flow of bliss!
The clasp of his hand,
And ah! his kiss!
My rest is gone,
My heart is sore;
Peace find I never,
And never more.
The smile of his mouth,
The might of his eye,
And, when he speaks,
What flow of bliss!
The clasp of his hand,
And ah! his kiss!
My rest is gone,
My heart is sore;
Peace find I never,
And never more.