Let Me Die Or Mourn
Accompany not; let me mourn.
Till it is a fine morn,
I want but to be alone.
It’s not for your sour scorn
That I deeply mourn,
But for, away, you are to be gone.
Stop, my girl, all your whine,
And get your heart be calm down.
It is your love that turns slow;
And my face goes below.
Only tears come to my aid
Since none is to hide.
Touch me not by your hands;
Touch me but by your wants.
It’s you, who matters me high,
Aye, keep me beneath your eye,
‘Tis all that I pray.
And if you think of me not to pry,
Just, just let me die.
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