Woe's me ! Woe's me !

Oh how hard it is to find

The one just suited to our mind;

And if that one should be

False, unkind, or found too late,

What can we do but sigh at fate,

And sing Wo's

me — Wo's me!

Love's a boundless burning waste,

Where Bliss's stream we seldom taste,

And still more seldom flee

Suspense's thorns, Suspicion's stings;

Yet somehow Love a something brings

That's sweet — ev'n when we sigh Wo's me!