The nights are o’er when, by the shore,
We strayed—thy arm in mine,
And our hearts were like the full cup ere
The sparkle leaves the wine.
But the sparkle flies, the cup is drained,
And the nights return no more
When our hearts were warm and, arm in arm,
We strayed by the moonlit shore.
The nights are o’er when, by the shore,
We strayed—thy arm in mine,