If thou wouldst ease thine heart
Of love and all its smart
Then sleep, dear, sleep;
And not a sorrow
Hang any tear on your eyelashes;
Lie still and deep
Sad soul, until the sea-wave washes
The rim o' th' sun tomorrow
In eastern sky

But wilt thou cure thine heart
Of love and all its smart
Then die, dear, die;
'Tis deeper, sweeter
Than on a rose bank to lie dreaming
With folded eye;
And then alone, amid the beaming
Of love's stars, thou'lt meet her
In eastеrn sky