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I'LL NOT BELIEVE IT.

I

I'll not believe love's wreath will pain
The hands that weave it;
That when no summer flow'rs remain,
Love's wreath becomes a galling chain:
I'll not believe it!

II

I'll not believe man wins a heart,
To pain and grieve it;
That when sad tears unbidden start,
The once fond lover will depart:
I'll not believe it!

III

I'll not believe a hope he'll raise,
But to deceive it;
That in the wane of wedded days,
He'll slight the smile love used to praise:
I'll not believe it!