Lilea

What a lovely flower I see
Bloom in snowy beauty there--
O how fragrant and how fair!
Can that lily bloom for me?
Thee to pluck, be mine the bliss,
Place upon my breast and kiss!
Why then is that bliss denied?
Why does heaven our fates divide?

Sorrow now my bosom fills;
Tears run down my cheeks like rills:
Far away that flower must bloom,
And in vain I sigh, “O come!”
Softly zephyr glides between,
Waving boughs of emerald green.
Purest flow’rets bend their head,
Shake their little cups of dew:
Fate unpitying and untrue.

Fate so desolate and dread
Says, “She blossoms not for thee;--
In vain thou shedd’st the bitter tear,
Another hand shall gather her:--
And thou--go mourn thy misery.”
O flower so lovely! Lilea fair!
With thee I fain my fate would share,
But heaven hath said, “It cannot be!”