Song

You ask me to sing — I'd be glad if I could
Sing like a thrush in the underwood,
Like a twinkling lark that sings up in the sky,
Or a swan that sings only when going to die.
Ere now I have sung, when my heart was young,

Like cock-crow loud and clearly,
But I cannot sing now I protest, I vow.
Because I love you dearly.

Could I sing like a syren — but that would I not,
Could I sing like a minstrel whose name is forgot,
But whose strain is a treasure which all men may borrow.
To harmonise joy and to sweeten their sorrow,
Oh, then I would sing to my dear, dear thing.

Like cock-crow loud and clearly.
But I cannot sing now, I protest, I vow.
Because I love you dearly,

Could I sing what I feel, and express by a note
How wisely esteeming, how fondly I dote.

Then would music no more be a nice thing of art.
But as in old time the true voice of the heart.
I could sing all day long — sing song after song,

Like an angel singing clearly,
But I cannot sing now, I protest, I vow,
Because I love you dearly.