Edward Elgar
2 voix · Voice, Piano
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Hapless doom of woman happy in betrothing, Beauty passes like a breath and love is lost in loathing: Low! my lute: Speak low, speak low, my lute, but say the world is nothing. Low! lute, low! Love will hover round the flowers when they first awaken; Love will fly the falllen leaf, and not be overtaken; Low, my lute! O low, O low my lute! we fade and are forsaken, and are forsaken, we fade and are forsaken. Low, dear lute, low!
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