Miss Vardill

A Canzonet


Youth of the rising year, sweet spring,
Parent of new-born loves and flow’rs
That joy and fragrance lavish fling,
Now blithe returns, but not to bring
Aught that can soothe my lonely hours,
For Isabel, thou’rt false to me,
And all I’ve lost, in losing thee.


Yes, spring returns, in beauty bright
But sheds on me no beam of joy,
For nought it brings my mental sight
But memory of last delight!
That doth each present good destroy
Now Isabel thou’rt false to me,
I’ve lost my all in losing thee.


The vernal glories of the year
Now rise the same as erst they rose
But I the same no more appear;
To Isabel no longer dear,
I wail in broken strains my woes
My Isabel is false to me!
I’ve lost my all in losing thee!


Oh what a blissful state were love
If the enchanting dream could last!
Or when its joys no more we prove
Then mem’ry too would far remove
Nor turn to pain the raptures past!
Ah Isabel, thou’rt false to me!
I’ve lost my all in losing thee!

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