Mary, adieu! I must away;
While thou art blest, to grieve were sin;
But near thee I can never stay,
Because I’d get in love again.
I deemed that time, I deemed that pride,
My boyish feeling had subdued,
Nor knew, till seated by thy side,
I’d try to get you if I could.
Yet was I calm: I recollect,
My hand had once sought yours again,