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Rh And all day long Our lives should be a song: No grief, no wrong Should make my heart rebel— Were I thy bride!

The silvery flute, The melancholy lute, Were night owl's hoot To my low-whispered coo— Were I thy bride! The skylark's trill Were but discordance shrill To the soft thrill Of wooing as I'd woo— Were I thy bride!

The rose's sigh Were as a carrion's cry To lullaby Such as I'd sing to thee, Were I thy bride! A feather's press Were leaden heaviness To my caress. But then, unhappily, I'm not thy bride!