“Always I’ll love you!” Then you sigh: With foolish white-faced misery And tell me tales of loves that die.

You say: “I’m weary of the lie That lovers call eternity Giving to love an alibi.”

But ’tis most wanton to despise The old-established verities, That grant illusions to the wise.

In the tired darkness of your eyes I’ve found my chosen paradise; And if they lie--God give me lies!

My darling, what a goose you are To plant a doubt in every star.