Love thee dearest? Love thee?
Love thee, dearest? Love thee?
Yes, by yonder star I swear,
Which through tears above thee
Shines so sadly fair;
Though often dim
With tears, like him
Like him, my love will shine!
And - love thee, dearest? Love thee?
Yes, till death I'm thine.
Leave thee, dearest? Leave thee?
No, that star is not more true;
When my vows deceive thee,
He will wander too.
A cloud of night
May veil his light
And death shall darken mine
But - leave thee, dearest? Leave thee?
No, till Death I'm thine.
Thomas Moore
Lamh Foistenach Abu!