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No. 18 - Song - Mary - "Love at the door."
| Mary: | When love stands
at the heart's door of a maiden, Both his hands with the red roses are laden, And she hears his call as the fair morning uncloses; "Ere they fall, will you let me in with my roses?" But with laughter Ringing after, She will send him From her door, Bidding him not to importune Till his fortune May be more! For the fancies And romances That attend him Are not sure; "Ah, do not trouble me, Cupid, It is stupid to be poor." |
| But a girl grows old, and her heart wakens to hunger, Scorning gold that she asked when she was younger! And when love goes by as the day wearily closes, Hear her cry:"I will give my gold for your roses." But with laughter Ringing after, He is turning From her door, Love that she scorn'd for a fortune Will importune Never more! For his flowers Felt the powers Of the burning Summer sun; Roses whose worth she upbraided, They are faded, they are done! |
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| (with Chorus:) | For it's Love's own rose That is worth wishing for only! Soon Love goes, And we're left longing and lonely, When he comes our way, Let us bow down to his power While we may, Ere the sky grows gray, Let us love our day, For the world cannot pay for an hour of love, of our love! |
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Page modified 7 December 2016