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.