contents | previous | next And to my wounds her balm impart? O speak! with those expressive eyes; Let one low sigh escape thine heart. The gazing crowd shall never guess What anxious, watchful Love can see; Nor know what those soft looks express, Nor dream that sigh is meant for me. Ah! words are useless, words are vain, Thy generous sympathy to prove; And well, that sigh, those looks explain That Clara mourns my hapless love. |
