I
ASK’ST thou “how long my love shall stay
When all that’s new is past?”
How long? — Ah, Delia, can I say
How long my life will last?
Dry be that tear — be hush’d that sigh,
At least I’ll love thee till I die.
II
And does that thought afflict thee too,
The thought of Damon’s death?
That he who only lives for you,
Must yield his faithful breath?
Hush’d be that sigh — be dried that tear,
Nor let us lose our Heaven here!