My Heart’s Guardian

My heart is locked up in her breast,

     My loved one holds the key;

She thus becomes the guardian

     Of my heart, which is me.

I am a willing prisoner,

     Of love and not of war;

And she the fairest guardian

     A captive ever saw.

My heart is locked up in her breast,

     Poor heart! And woe is me;

She will not give hers in return,

     And thus my misery.

Perhaps some day she will relent,

     It would not be so strange,

And ope the jail which holds my heart

     And make a fair exchange.

June 15, 1902