Love Thee, Dearest? Love Thee?

A poem by Thomas Moore

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.

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