Wishes
I wish for what can never be,
In this or any world I know,
But still my heart can never see,
And cries for things that can’t be so.
Your skin is sweet as summer hay,
The sun has kissed all golden brown,
Your touch as soft as breeze in May,
That curls your dampened hair around.
Oh love of my life, my dearest one,
I know you can never be mine,
No more than my hands could grasp the sun,
Or the stars could cease to shine.
I know it well, and yet for me,
My love will last my whole life long,
A bitter pain that tastes so sweet,
A biting sorrow deep and strong.
But I wouldn’t give it up, you see,
Nor wish to ease my lonesome heart. . .
I choose to keep your memory,
And live my life in love apart.
For who could ever take your place?
And who could touch my heart so deep?
And how could I ever count the ways,
Your love has meant so much to me?
I never could, and that’s the sting,
For pale and faded copies may
Be all right for certain things,
But never you. . . what more can I say?
In this or any world I know,
But still my heart can never see,
And cries for things that can’t be so.
Your skin is sweet as summer hay,
The sun has kissed all golden brown,
Your touch as soft as breeze in May,
That curls your dampened hair around.
Oh love of my life, my dearest one,
I know you can never be mine,
No more than my hands could grasp the sun,
Or the stars could cease to shine.
I know it well, and yet for me,
My love will last my whole life long,
A bitter pain that tastes so sweet,
A biting sorrow deep and strong.
But I wouldn’t give it up, you see,
Nor wish to ease my lonesome heart. . .
I choose to keep your memory,
And live my life in love apart.
For who could ever take your place?
And who could touch my heart so deep?
And how could I ever count the ways,
Your love has meant so much to me?
I never could, and that’s the sting,
For pale and faded copies may
Be all right for certain things,
But never you. . . what more can I say?