I'd offer thee this heart of mine,
If I could love thee less,
But hearts as warm and pure 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
Than win thee to destroy.
I leave thee to thy happiness,
As one too near to love
As one I'll think of but to bless,
While wretchedly I rove;
And oh! when sorrow's cap I drink,
All bitter though it be;
How sweet to me 'twill be to think
It holds no drop for thee.
Then fare thee well! an exile now,
Without a friend or home;
With anguish written on my brow
About the world I roam;
For all my dreams of bliss are o'er
Fate bade them all depart
And I must leave my native shore
In brokenness of heart.
Dister, Valentine, "I'd Offer thee this Heart" (1845). Historic Sheet Music Collection. 887.
The views expressed in this paper are solely those of the author.