When Thou Shalt Wander. (Sicilian Air.)

A poem by Thomas Moore

When thou shalt wander by that sweet light
We used to gaze on so many an eve,
When love was new and hope was bright,
Ere I could doubt or thou deceive--
Oh, then, remembering how swift went by
Those hours of transport, even thou may'st sigh.

Yes, proud one! even thy heart may own
That love like ours was far too sweet
To be, like summer garments thrown
Aside, when past the summer's heat;
And wish in vain to know again
Such days, such nights, as blest thee then.

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