While You, My Love, Are by

While you, my love, are by,
How fast the moments fly!
Yet who could wish them slower?
Alas! to think ere long
Your converse and your song
Can reach my ear no more.
O let the thought too rest
Upon your gentle breast,
Where many kind ones dwell;
And then perhaps at least
I may partake a feast
None e'er enjoy'd so well.
Why runs in waste away
Such music, day by day,

When every little wave
Of its melodious rill
Would slake my thirst, until
I quench it in the grave.