Bring to me a strong pot
By which my soul's sorrow will be forgot:
Filled with an opiate divine
So that Woman may be driven from my mind.
For I no longer want
This stream inspiring a heartly haunt,
That once flows will not stop
'Til my heart's blood drains to its last drop,
And so drained, then breaks.
Leaves me with an art held for its own sake.
So bring me forth this draught,
Deepest as ever one from Lethe quaffed.
From my broken heart charm
This fair Image of the earth's Fairest Form
That ever my heart has held,
That ever my reveling heart has swelled.
Alas, seems never shall be
My mind's eye, my heart, my soul ever free
Of this tort'rous torment.
Left with naught to do, only lament.
Away I cannot chase
The mind numbing beauty of her face.
'Tis all in vain it seems
For such a draught appears only in my dreams.
My sight did so invest,
Bringing damning pain abreast.
No longer can delight
Be brought forth from sights seen in any light.
Had she only known how
My heart, once free, only beat for her now
And with but a smile
Assuaged that murd'rous pain but for a while
I would then know relief,
That most bittersweet pain, the "joy of grief."