| Ache No More |
| Are you yet aching As oft I am still? Your soul, you sold her As bequeathed in your will, And mine hath not Ceased breaking. But ache no more For ten and three score Who could love you Better than I? Fine and fair love You yet not know That in you must grow Love But fear you let go? O, Ache no more Great blinded paramour Release from your heart All that makes you weak And of her, I implore Your tongue no longer speak. And when in ripe, mellowing age Let it be me, To bid you a sage And ache no more O gentle boss O'er that grievable loss But someday do replace with a teaming list of fervent reflections once betrothed By all my affections 'Tis you adore So ache no more And abandon Love's lost rejections |