Charles Villiers Stanford
2 voix · Voice, Piano
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I praise the tender flower, That on a mournful day Bloomed in my garden bower, And made the winter gay. Its loveliness contented my heart tormented. I praise the gentle maid, whose happy voice and smile To confidence betrayed My doleful heart awhile: And gave my spirit deploring Fresh wings for soaring. The maid for very fear of love I durst not tell: The rose could never hear, though I bespake her well: So in my song I bind them For all to find them.
OpenScore (CC0)
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