“Always I’ll love you!” Then you sigh:
With foolish white-faced misery
And tell me tales of loves that die.
You say: “I’m weary of the lie
That lovers call eternity
Giving to love an alibi.”
But ’tis most wanton to despise
The old-established verities,
That grant illusions to the wise.
In the tired darkness of your eyes
I’ve found my chosen paradise;
And if they lie--God give me lies!
My darling, what a goose you are
To plant a doubt in every star.