If Thou Wilt Ease Thine Heart

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IF thou wilt ease thine heart
Of love, and all its smart,-
  Then sleep, dear, sleep!
And not a sorrow
  Hang any tear on your eyelashes;  
Lie still and deep,  
Sad soul, until the sea-wave washes
The rim o' the sun to-morrow,
  In eastern sky,

But wilt thou cure thine heart
Of love, and all its smart,-
 Then die, dear, die!
'T is deeper, sweeter,
  Than on a rose bank to lie dreaming  
With folded eye;  
And then alone, amid the beaming
Of love's stars, thou'lt meet her
  In eastern sky.

© Thomas Lovell Beddoes