John Andrew Stevenson
(1761 - 1833)

'Tis love that murmurs in my breast
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A glee composed and printed in Dublin.
Lyrics: Thomas Moore

'Tis love that murmurs in my breast,
And makes me shed the secret tear;
Nor day nor night my soul has rest,
For night and day his voice I hear.

A wound within my heart I find,
And oh! 'tis plain where love has been;
For still he leaves a wound behind
Such as within my heart is seen.

O bird of love, with song so drear,
Make not my soul the nest of pain;
Oh, let the wing which brought thee here
In pity waft thee hence again.