Song

I would not feign a single sigh Nor weep a single tear for thee: The soul within these orbs burns dry; A desert spreads where love should be. I would not be a worm to crawl A writhing suppliant in thy way; For love is life, is heaven, and all The beams of an immortal day.

For sighs are idle things and vain, And tears for idiots vainly fall. I would not kiss thy face again Nor round thy shining slippers crawl. Love is the honey, not the bee, Nor would I turn its sweets to gall For all the beauty found in thee, Thy lily neck, rose cheek, and all.

I would not feign a single tale Thy kindness or thy love to seek; Nor sigh for Jenny of the Vale, Her ruby smile or rosy cheek. I would not have a pain to own For those dark curls and those bright eyes A frowning lip, a heart of stone, False love and folly I despise.