What will you give me for this heart of mine,
No heart of gold, and yet my dearest treasure?
It has its graces, it can ache and pine,
And beat true time to your sweet voice's measure;
It bears your name, it lives but for your pleasure:
What will you give me for this heart I bring,
That holds my life, my joy, my everything?
How can I ask a price, when all my prayer