We stood by the river that swept In its glory and grandeur away; But never a pulse o` me leapt, And you wondered at me that day. We stood by the lake as it lay With its dimpled face turned to the light; Was it strange I had nothing to say To so fair and enchanting a sight? I look on your tresses of gold— You are fair and a thing to be loved— Do you think I am heartless and cold That I look and am wholly unmoved? One answer, dear friend, I will make To the questions your eyes ask of me: `Talk not of the river or lake To those who have looked on the sea.`SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
The script ran 0.001 seconds.