So madly that it is in vain to wed.
I’m glad you feel the way I do,’ he said.
And had he washed my body quite away
In tears, I would not have had less to say.
I merely smiled, pretending I was dead.”
“Then where is Beauty, now that she had fled,
And where is Paradise without her arms?
Surely I did not know how much I said,
When I complained that the old love was dead:
’Tis thinking of to-morrow that disarms!