Literary Gazette, 24th November, 1821, Page 749
SONG.
Oh, you cannot prove false to me, my love,
Think how I have confided in thee,
I have prized thy love all else above,
Oh, you cannot be false to me.
Could you chill the first warm overflow of the heart,
Freeze the fountain you first taught to flow;
Could you act a cruel, a treacherous part,
Could you be the herald of woe.
I will not believe it, but still will repose
Ev'ry hope of my heart upon thine;
I will not believe you could blight the young rose
That but blossom'd to bloom on thy shrine.
I'll believe that the sun will forsake his day throne,
The moon her night palace of blue,
That blushes, sighs, smiles, are no longer love's own,
Ere I will believe you untrue. L. E. L.
