They tell me thou art faithless, Love!
That vows thy lips have sworn—
The smiles which light thy lovely face—
Are false as April morn;
My brightest dreams of happiness
They wish me to forget:
But, No! the spell that won my love
Doth bind my spirit yet.

They tell me thou art faithless, Love!
And changeful as a dream:
They say thou'rt frail as drifts of sand
That kiss the laughing stream;
They whisper if I wed thee, Sweet!
My heart will know regret:
But, No! the spell that won my love
Doth bind my spirit yet.