love is a sickness - hubert parry lyrics
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love is a sickness full of woes
all remedies refusing;
a plant that most with cutting grows
most barren with best using
why so?
more we enjoy it, more it dies;
if not enjoy’d, it sighing cries **
heigh ho!
love is a torment of the mind
a tempest everlasting;
and jove hath made it of a kind
not well, nor full, nor fasting
why so?
more we enjoy it, more it dies;
if not enjoy’d, it sighing cries **
heigh ho!
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