Part 2 — SONG.
Reading edition
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BY THOMAS FITZGERALD, EDITOR CITY ITEM.
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Ah! do not speak so coldly,
Cold words my heart will chill;
If I have loved too boldly,
Oh, let me worship still.
The pure heart loves forever,
To its own likeness true,
And though fate bids us sever,
I’ll love, I’ll love but you!
The heart will throb in sorrow
If from its idol torn,
Nor elsewhere joy will borrow
If love’s return be scorn.
Then do not speak so coldly,
Cold words my heart will chill;
E’en if I’ve loved too boldly,
Oh, let me worship still.