The poem
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.