And wilt thou weep when I am low?
    Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so---
    I would not give that bosom pain.

My heart is sad, my hopes are gone,
    My blood runs coldly through my breast;
And when I perish, thou alone
    Wilt sigh above my place of rest.

And yet, methinks, a gleam of peace
    Doth through my cloud of anguish shine:
And for a while my sorrows cease,
    To know thy heart hath felt for mine.

Oh lady! blessd be that tear---
    It falls for one who cannot weep;
Such precious drops are doubly dear
    To those whose eyes no tear may steep.

Sweet lady! once my heart was warm
    With every feeling soft as thine;
But Beauty's self hath ceased to charm
    A wretch created to repine.

Yet wilt thou weep when I am low ?
    Sweet lady! speak those words again:
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so---
    I would not give that bosom pain.