A dimpled well of tears is set below,
And death lies near to life thy lovers know,
But know in vain!
God send to thee great length of happy days!
Lo, not for his own life thy servant prays;
Love’s dart in thy bent brows the Archer lays,
Nor shoots in vain.
Art thou with grief afflicted, with the smart
Of absence, and is bitter toil thy part?
Thy lamentations and thy tears, oh Heart,