Ah sweet! those eyes, that used to be so tender

Ah sweet! those eyes, that used to be so tender,

Are grown so cold, as bitter cold as death,

The burnt out ashes fall into the fender,

None shall revive the flame that perisheth.

So leave me "love," just kiss me one, then turning

Go forth from me before the fall of day,

It were better "love" to leave the ashes burning,

Than wait, too late,

till

they are burnt away.