My SECOND oft, I’m told,
State secrets will hold fast,
But, to a key of gold
’Tis known to yield at last.
Fond mother, tender wife,
With agonizing soul,—
The exile, sick of life,—
Have looked and sighed my WHOLE.
My SECOND oft, I’m told,
State secrets will hold fast,
But, to a key of gold
’Tis known to yield at last.
Fond mother, tender wife,
With agonizing soul,—
The exile, sick of life,—
Have looked and sighed my WHOLE.