Song.

A poem by Thomas Moore

[1]


Mary, I believed thee true,
And I was blest in thus believing
But now I mourn that e'er I knew
A girl so fair and so deceiving.
Fare thee well.

Few have ever loved like me,--
Yes, I have loved thee too sincerely!
And few have e'er deceived like thee.--
Alas! deceived me too severely.

Fare thee well!--yet think awhile
On one whose bosom bleeds to doubt thee:
Who now would rather trust that smile,
And die with thee than live without thee.

Fare thee well! I'll think of thee.
Thou leavest me many a bitter token;
For see, distracting woman, see,
My peace is gone, my heart is broken!--
Fare thee well!

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