To Sorrow
I bade good-morrow,
And thought to leave her far away behind;
But cheerly, cheerly,
She loves me dearly;
She is so constant to me, and so kind:
I would deceive her
And so leave her,
But ah! she is so constant and so kind.

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Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: John Keats (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.