Love Thee, Dearest? Love Thee?
Love thee, dearest? love thee?
Yes, by yonder star I swear,
Which thro’ tears above thee
Shines so sadly fair;
Tho’ often dim,
With tears, like him,
Like him my truth will shine,
And—love thee, dearest? love thee?
Yes, till death I’m thine.
Leave thee, dearest? leave thee?
No, that star is not more true;
When my vows deceive thee,
He will wander too.
A cloud of night
May veil his light,
And death shall darken mine—
But—leave thee, dearest? leave thee?
No, till death I’m thine.