The Cost
Is it not wrong if it seem,
My time with you is but a dream?
Yet if that dream should pass away
And if you find you cannot stay,
For a minute or an hour
Because hope I had has gone sour;
Then all I had with you has passed,
It was not real and could not last.
And now I love but live alone,
My heart of hearts has turned to stone;
For clouds now hide my sunny sky,
And bring the tears that cloud my eye.
Let the song of grief be sung,
For a costly love that died so young.
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