The poem
FORLORN, my Love, no comfort near, Far, far from thee, I wander here; Far, far from thee, the fate severe, At which I most repine, Love.
Chorus.—O wert thou, Love, but near me! But near, near, near me, How kindly thou wouldst cheer me, And mingle sighs with mine, Love.
Around me scowls a wintry sky, Blasting each bud of hope and joy; And shelter, shade, nor home have I; Save in these arms of thine, Love. O wert thou, &c.
Cold, alter’d friendship’s cruel part, To poison Fortune’s ruthless dart— Let me not break thy faithful heart, And say that fate is mine, Love. O wert thou, &c.
But, dreary tho’ the moments fleet, O let me think we yet shall meet; That only ray of solace sweet, Can on thy Chloris shine, Love! O wert thou, &c.