THE words of love I never said to thee
⁠⁠I whisper now,
The tenderness I might have given thee
⁠⁠I offer now,
As at thy feet, who hopeless knelt to me,
⁠⁠I, hopeless, bow.

The wintry bush in yonder hedgerow growing,
⁠⁠A rose adorns,
And near and far are snowy clusters blowing,
⁠⁠Where late were thorns;
But still my heart, nor bud nor blossom knowing,
⁠⁠Unpitied mourns.

I see the bird that to his mate is winging—
⁠⁠His mate so dear,
The very heart within his breast is singing
⁠⁠As he draws near,
And I, O love, too late my love am bringing—
⁠⁠Thou dost not hear!