Paroles
1. O, dear one, how sad is that moan,
How languid and sickly that eye.
My bosom responds to each groan,
And echos each deep-beathing sigh.
2. Those flutt'ring pulsations I trace
The anguish that sits on thy brow,
The paleness that covers thy face,
Thy voice that is languid and low.
3. O dear one, how deep is the grief,
That withers my desolate heart.
Kind Heav'n bring thee speedy relief,
Or thou from thy mother wilt part.
