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The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore

Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes
  

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231

THOU LOV'ST NO MORE.

Too plain, alas, my doom is spoken,
Nor canst thou veil the sad truth o'er;
Thy heart is changed, thy vow is broken,
Thou lov'st no more—thou lov'st no more.
Tho' kindly still those eyes behold me,
The smile is gone, which once they wore;
Tho' fondly still those arms enfold me,
'Tis not the same—thou lov'st no more.
Too long my dream of bliss believing,
I've thought thee all thou wert before;
But now—alas! there's no deceiving,
'Tis all too plain, thou lov'st no more.
Oh, thou as soon the dead couldst waken,
As lost affection's life restore,
Give peace to her that is forsaken,
Or bring back him who loves no more.