An Answer

Could I be sure that I should die
  The moment you had ceased to love me,
  I would not turn so fearfully
  From those fond vows with which you move me.
  Could I be sure, when passion's light
  Had faded from your eyes away,
  My own would close in endless night,
  I would not shun their dangerous ray.
  'Tis not your tenderness I dread,
  But that affection's drear decay;
  Would fate indulgent strike me dead
  When its first glow of warmth was fled—
  I'd live and love you till that day.