He came from his palace grand

He came to my cottage door

His words were few but his looks

Will linger for evermore

The look in his sad dark eyes

More tender than words could be

But I was nothing to him

And he was the world to me.



There in her garden she stands

All dressed in fine satin and lace

Lady Mary so cold and so strange

In her heart she could find no place.

He knew I would be his bride

With a kiss for a lifetime fee

But I was nothing to him

And he was the world to me.



Now in his palace grand

On a flower strewn bed he lies

His beautiful lids are closed

On his sad dark beautiful eyes

And among the mourners who mourn

Why should I a mourner be

For I was nothing to him

And he was the world to me.



For I was nothing to him

And he was the world to me.