Think not my love, when secret grief
Prays on thy saddened heart.
Think not I wish a mean relief
Or would from sorrow part.
Dearly I prize the sight sincere
That my true fondness prove.
Nor could I bear to check the tear
That flows from hapless love.
Alas, for doomed to hope in vain
the joy that love requite
Yet will I cherish all its pain
with sad but dear delight.
This pleasured grief this love despair
My loss for ever be.
But dearest, may the pangs I bear
be never known by thee.