False Love

Edward Elgar

Now we hear the Spring's sweet voice
Singing gladly through the world;
Bidding all the earth rejoice

All is merry in the field
Flowers grow amidst the grass
Blossoms blue, red, white they yield

As I seek my maiden true
Sings the little lark on high
Fain to send her praises due

As I climb and reach her door
Ah! I see a rival there
So farewell! for evermore

Ever true was I to thee
Never grieved or vexed thee, love
False, oh! false, art thou of me

Now amid the forest green
Far from cruel eyes that mock
Will I dwell unloved, unseen

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