Текст песни
One word is too often profaned
For me to profane it
One feeling too falsely disdained
For thee to disdain it
One hope is too like despair
For prudence to smother
And pity from thee more dear
Than that from another
I can give not what men call love
But wilt thou accept not
The worship the heart lifts above
And the heavens reject not
Desire of the moth for the star
Night for the morrow
Devotion something afar
From the sphere of our sorrow?
