Why looks my lord so deadly pale? Why fades the crimson from his cheek? What can my dearest husband ail? Thy heartfelt cares, O Herman, speak!
Why, at the silent hour of rest, Dost thou in sleep so sadly mourn? Has tho' with heaviest grief oppress'd, Griefs too distressful to be borne.
Why heaves thy breast?--why throbs thy heart? O speak! and if there be relief, Thy Gertrude solace shall impart, If not, at least shall share thy grief.
Wan is that cheek, which once the bloom Of manly beauty sparkling shew'd; Dim are those eyes, in pensive gloom, That late with keenest lustre glow'd.
Say why, too, at the midnight hour, You sadly pant and tug for breath, As if some supernat'ral pow'r Were pulling you away to death?
Restless, tho' sleeping, still you groan, And with convulsive horror start; O Herman! to thy wife make known That grief which preys upon thy heart.
Comments 14
Ringo, what ever did you do.. ?? Yours is so funny. I love it.
Hugs
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Hugs
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Oooh a unicorn *hides my laughs* suits you, baby *cheeky smile*
-xXx-
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I am about ready to kick someone in the ass..
hear me D?
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Why looks my lord so deadly pale?
Why fades the crimson from his cheek?
What can my dearest husband ail?
Thy heartfelt cares, O Herman, speak!
Why, at the silent hour of rest,
Dost thou in sleep so sadly mourn?
Has tho' with heaviest grief oppress'd,
Griefs too distressful to be borne.
Why heaves thy breast?--why throbs thy heart?
O speak! and if there be relief,
Thy Gertrude solace shall impart,
If not, at least shall share thy grief.
Wan is that cheek, which once the bloom
Of manly beauty sparkling shew'd;
Dim are those eyes, in pensive gloom,
That late with keenest lustre glow'd.
Say why, too, at the midnight hour,
You sadly pant and tug for breath,
As if some supernat'ral pow'r
Were pulling you away to death?
Restless, tho' sleeping, still you groan,
And with convulsive horror start;
O Herman! to thy wife make known
That grief which preys upon thy heart.
Reply
Th' uncommon anguish that I feel;
Strange as severe is this my fate,--
A fate I cannot long conceal.
In spite of all my wonted strength,
Stern destiny has seal'd my doom;
The dreadful malady at length
Wil drag me to the silent tomb!
But say, my Herman, what's the cause
Of this distress, and all thy care.
That, vulture-like, thy vitals gnaws,
And galls thy bosom with despair?
Sure this can be no common grief,
Sure this can be no common pain?
Speak, if this world contain relief,
That soon thy Gertrude shall obtain.
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