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And Wilt Thou Weep When I Am Low?
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George Gordon, Lord Byron (1808)
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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! blessed 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.




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