Sing not to me a song of beauty bright, 
Nor festive scenes of dazzling light; 
Nor of gorgeous pageant in palace hall 
Begemmed with many a coronal; 
But sing to me my memory's care - 
The misspent hours fled where - oh where? 

Sing not to me of the battlefield, 
Nor splintered lance nor of broken shield, 
Not of gory plumes once freshly fair, 
Not of banners rent nor pennon bare; 
But sing to me my memory's care - 
The misspent hours fled where - oh where? 

Sing not to me of the sea-fight won,
By daring hearts and by flashing gun, 
Not how o'er the deep in exultant glee 
The victor's ship speeds galliantly; 
But sing to me my memory's care - 
The misspent hours fled where - oh where? 

Sing not of summer, sing not of spring, 
For these no joy to my heart can bring; 
Sing not of autumn yellow and sere 
Sing not of pallid winter frosty and drear; 
But sing to me my memory's care - 
The misspent hours fled where - oh where? 

Sing not of Love's deep tenderness 
Nor its whispered words, share its sweet caress; 
Sing not to me of Beauty's power, 
Nor the bridal morn - Love's dearest hour! 
But sing to me my memory's care 
The misspent hours fled where - oh where? 

Sing - sing to me with a mocking song, 
Of the guilty past and its deeds of wrong; 
Sing - till around me the phantoms come, 
Or the broken hearts in a distant home; 
These, these are my memory's care, 
And shriek them forth to my soul's despair!