My lute it has but one sweet song

My lute it has but one sweet song, And that is love, dear love, No other sounds will e'er belong To its soft voice, but love. 2From morn's first ray 2To set of day, Where'er I chance to rove, 2Its chords will sigh 2No melody But love, dear love. 2Sometimes 'tis sad, 2Sometimes 'tis glad, As tears or smiles may prove; 2Sometimes it tells 2Of last farewells, But always still of love! 2To change its theme 2From passion's dream I would, but 'twill not rove, 2Nor cease to sigh 2The melody Of love, dear love.

Of knights and chivalry I tried To sing in lofty strain; My heroes were the young, the fair. My field, a bower or grove, 2My battle's noise, 2The low sweet voice Of love, dear love!