Classic Poem

T HOU'LT take me with thee, my love, my love?
Wherever thou'rt forced by fate, to move?
Over the land, or over the sea,
Thou know'st 'tis the same delight to me .
What say'st thou, dear?
Thy bride is here,
All ready to live and die with thee,
Her heart was in the song;
It murmured in the measure;
It touched the music, all along ,
With a grave sweet pleasure .

Thou wilt not leave me behind, behind,
To the malice of Fortune, harsh and blind?
I'll follow thy call, as a bird would flee,
And sing or be mute as thou biddest me.
What say'st thou, dear,
To my fond, fond fear?
Thou can'st not banish thy love from thee!
Her heart was in the song;
It murmured in the measure;
It touched the music, all along ,
With a grave sweet pleasure .

What say'st thou, my soldier, my love, my pride?
Thy answer? What, was I not born thy bride?
From my cradle e'er cherished for love and thee,
And dar'st thou now banish or bid me flee?
Smil'st thou at my fear?
Ah, then, my dear,
I know I may love — live — die with thee!
Her heart was in the song;
It murmured in the measure;
It touched the music, all along ,
With a grave sweet pleasure .