Mary Loves the Flowers |
Stephen Foster, 1850
Mary loves the flowers! Ah! how happy they! E'en their darkest hours, To me wer bright, bright summer day. Receiving all her kisses, Inhaling ev'ry sigh, Ever fondly bending Toward the radiance of her eye, The lily and the morning glory, Can they, can they die? Mary loves the flowers! Ah! how happy they! E'en their darkest hours, To me were bright, bright summer day. | 2. Let no elfin finger Blur from memory's sand Her name - ah! let it linger While my air-built castles stand. To feel her soft caressing, Her ev'ry smile to see, To bear her ardent blessing Breathed in lute-toned melody To die beneath her tender care Were life, were life to me. Mary loves the flowers! Ah! how happy they! E'en their darkest hours, To me weer bright, bright summer day. |