Sick heart, be at rest!
Is there nothing that I can do
To quiet your crying in my breast?
Will nothing comfort you?
I am sick of a malady
There is but one thing can assuage:
Cure me of youth, and, see,
I will be wise in age!
Sick heart, be at rest!
Is there nothing that I can do
To quiet your crying in my breast?
Will nothing comfort you?
I am sick of a malady
There is but one thing can assuage:
Cure me of youth, and, see,
I will be wise in age!
© Arthur Symons