Who will hear of love desolate? In which some number more than two lovers met But for two it was named And though it is old They grow young again Each time it is told For what love is more fierce than that of the young? Why, it is for them that love songs are sung For though they are quickest To fall and to break Their hearts are the true homes Of worship and ache And they say, "Yes it is sad to know I am happiest alone But it is when I am under your hand I know happiness is not grand" Her voice was like music with a dying fall A delicate instrument to be played gently or not at all But for him she suffered And gladly at that They made sweet songs Sweet songs They sang, "Yes it is sad to know I am happiest alone But it is when I am under your hand I know happiness is not grand" This is This is