I’d offer thee this hand of mine,
If I could love thee less,
But hearts as warm as thine,
Should never know distress.
My fortune is too hard for thee
‘Twould chill thy dearest joy,
I’d rather weep to see thee free,
Than win thee to destroy.
I leave thee in thy happiness,
As one to dear too love,
As one I think of but to bless,
As wretchedly I rove;
But oh! When sorrows cup I drink,
All better tho’ it be,
How sweet ‘twill be for me to think,
It holds no drop for thee.
And now my dreams are sadly o’er,
Fate bids them to depart
And I must leave my native shore,
In brokenness of heart;
Then oh dear one when far from thee,
I ne’er know joy again,
I would not, that one thought of me
Should give thy bosom pain.
Chadwick, L. Thayer and Chadwick, Henry, "I'd Offer Thee This Hand of Mine" (1846). Historic Sheet Music Collection. 632.
The views expressed in this paper are solely those of the author.