That I hardly dare lift my own sight to your eyes

Ah, my arms hold you fast, and my lips touch your cheek,
And I'm crying, "Love, answer me; speak to me--speak!"

And the answer you give to my longing distress
Is that word, with a blush and a kiss, that word "Yes."

Ah, my arms hold you fast, and I burn with a fire
That nothing but long-waiting love can inspire.

Yet I know you mean nothing--mean nothing, because
It's mere acting. Ah me, I can hear the applause.




An Apache Love-Song.[1]

A-atana she was here.
A-atana I was dear.
She will never come again.
Chill my heart, O wind and rain.
A-atana she was here.

Hark, the wind asks "Hi-you?"
And I answer "A-coo,
Ustey with your bitter cold;
U-ga-sha, my love of old."
Still the wind asks "Hi-you?"