All who loved you well;
Yet, sweet voices! yet
O’er my soul ye swell.
With the winds of spring,
With the breath of flowers,
Floating back, ye bring
Thoughts of vanished hours.
Hence your music take,
O ye voices gone!
This lonely heart ye make
All who loved you well;
Yet, sweet voices! yet
O’er my soul ye swell.
With the winds of spring,
With the breath of flowers,
Floating back, ye bring
Thoughts of vanished hours.
Hence your music take,
O ye voices gone!
This lonely heart ye make