Impromptu
Oh not for me the lily's sweetness
And not for me the rose's balm
Can rob life of its incompleteness
Or steep my fevered soul in calm!
Hope from this heart hath long been banished,
And love with hope hath taken wing;
The days of my delight have vanished—
“So what's the good of bothering?”
And not for me the rose's balm
Can rob life of its incompleteness
Or steep my fevered soul in calm!
Hope from this heart hath long been banished,
And love with hope hath taken wing;
The days of my delight have vanished—
“So what's the good of bothering?”
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