"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; ’Tis deeper, sweeter, Than on a rose-bank to lie dreaming With folded eye; And there alone, amid the beaming Of Love’s stars, thou’lt meet her In eastern sky."