| If solitude follows grief
|
| This heart of mine a wilderness
|
| Splendid memories indeed hardly a relief
|
| What comfort offers a last caress?
|
| What comfort offers a last caress?
|
| No more flowers to pick in May
|
| Any words are all in vain
|
| No more flowers to pick in May
|
| Any words are all in vain
|
| Love is a gift from Heaven
|
| Lifts into grace our lowest desires
|
| Shared with angels By Gods given
|
| Like passion, a spark of immortal fire
|
| This heart of mine a wilderness
|
| This heart of mine a wilderness
|
| What comfort offers a last caress?
|
| What comfort offers a last caress?
|
| But beautiful poems do not cover pain
|
| In loss I cannot sense any splendour
|
| Comforting words are all in vain
|
| Yesterday’s ghosts seem too tender
|
| Tragedy grand in a theatre play
|
| They claim sunshine to follow after rain
|
| But no more flowers to pick in May
|
| For death she is all the same
|
| What comfort offers a last caress?
|
| What comfort offers a last caress?
|
| No more flowers to pick in May
|
| Any words are all in vain
|
| No more flowers to pick in May
|
| Any words are all in vain |