Had I the muse’s art divine,
A tender song I’d pour
From this devoted heart of mine,
To one whom I adore.
The love that sets my heart aflame
I’d clothe in words of fire;
Immortal I would make her name
My love, my heart’s desire.
I know my love I should not speak
To one so good and fair;
I feel my words are far too weak
My feelings to declare.
But I would hope her heart to gain
Some time – no matter when –
I’d be, ‘mid want and woe and pain
The happiest of men.
Had I the muse’s tuneful art,
I’d sing such songs divine
As would be sure to fill her heart
With love as great as mine.
And then I’d scale the hills of fame
I’d fortune win and power
To add fresh glory to her name
And grandeur to her bower.