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.