What, am I dead? Then could I feel no smart!
But still in me the sense of grief reviveth.
Am I alive? Ah, no! I have no heart;
For she that hath it, me of life depriveth.
O that she would restore my heart again;
Or give me hers, to countervail my pain!
V.
If it be Love, to waste long hours in grief;
If it be Love, to wish, and not obtain;
If it be Love, to pine without relief;