The Love-Song
( " Viens! une flute. " )
Come, O come! an unseen flute
'Mid the orchard-bowers is sighing! —
Ah! the song that makes most mute
Is the shepherd-song soft-dying.
Breezes, 'neath the elm vine-clad
Gently fret the river-shadows. —
Ah! the song that makes most glad
Is the bird-song from the meadows.
Be no care in thy bright breast.
Let us love! Ay, love for ever! —
Ah! the song the loveliest
Is the love-song silenced never.
Come, O come! an unseen flute
'Mid the orchard-bowers is sighing! —
Ah! the song that makes most mute
Is the shepherd-song soft-dying.
Breezes, 'neath the elm vine-clad
Gently fret the river-shadows. —
Ah! the song that makes most glad
Is the bird-song from the meadows.
Be no care in thy bright breast.
Let us love! Ay, love for ever! —
Ah! the song the loveliest
Is the love-song silenced never.
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