Dear? Yes.
By Thomas Moore
Dear? yes, tho' mine no more, Even this but makes thee dearer; And love, since hope is o'er, But draws thee nearer. Change as thou wilt to me, The same thy charm must be; New loves may come to weave Their witchery o'er thee, Yet still, tho' false, believe That I adore thee, yes, still adore thee. Think'st thou that aught but death could end A tie not falsehood's self can rend? No, when alone, far off I die, No more to see, no more cares thee, Even then, my life's last sigh Shall be to bless thee, yes, still to bless thee.
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"Dear? yes, tho' mine no more,..."
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