Alas; woe to my eyes--
Let them not see.
The object of my affection
Cares not of me.
Discontentment pierces my soul
Would that I could take control;
Lift thy eye unto mine,
Profess me love pure and refined.
Would you have me change myself?
Would that beauty were my wealth.
Once colored, now gray,
My heart is ever-changing in your wake.
You'll never love me, will you?
In folly I fell--not into love, but gloom.
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