(BY HENRY TUCKER 1869)
Oh Genevieve, I'd give the world
To live again the lovely past!
The rose of youth was dew-impearled
But now it withers in the blast.
I see thy face in ev'ry dream,
My waking tho'ts are full of thee
Thy glance is in the starry beam
That falls along the summer sea.
[Chorus]
Oh Genevieve, sweet Genevieve,
The days may come, the days may go
But still the hands of mem'ry weave
The blissful dreams of long ago
0h, Genevieve, my only love,
The years have made thee dearer, far.
My heart shall never, never roam;
Thou art my own true guiding star.
To me the past has no regrets
What e'er the years may bring to me.
I bless the hour when first we met;
The hour that brought me love and thee.
Oh, Genevieve, sweet Genevieve,
The days may come, the days may go.
But still the hands of memory weave
The blissful dreams of long ago.
[Thanks to somerset_sun for correcting these lyrics]