Weep not too much, my darling;
 Sigh not too oft for me;
Say not the face of Nature
 Has lost its charm for thee.
I have enough of anguish
 In my own breast alone;
Thou canst not ease the burden, Love,
 By adding still thine own. 
I know the faith and fervour
 Of that true heart of thine;
But I would have it hopeful
 As thou wouldst render mine.
At night, when I lie waking,
 More soothing it will be
To say 'She slumbers calmly now,'
 Than say 'She weeps for me.'

When through the prison grating
 The holy moonbeams shine,
And I am wildly longing
 To see the orb divine
Not crossed, deformed, and sullied
 By those relentless bars
That will not show the crescent moon,
 And scarce the twinkling stars,

It is my only comfort
 To think, that unto thee
The sight is not forbidden --
 The face of heaven is free.
If I could think Zerona
 Is gazing upward now --
Is gazing with a tearless eye
 A calm unruffled brow;

That moon upon her spirit
 Sheds sweet, celestial balm, --
The thought, like Angel's whisper,
 My misery would calm.
And when, at early morning,
 A faint flush comes to me,
Reflected from those glowing skies
 I almost weep to see;

Or when I catch the murmur
 Of gently swaying trees,
Or hear the louder swelling
 Of the soul-inspiring breeze,
And pant to feel its freshness
 Upon my burning brow,
Or sigh to see the twinkling leaf,
 And watch the waving bough;

If, from these fruitless yearnings
 Thou wouldst deliver me,
Say that the charms of Nature
 Are lovely still to thee;
While I am thus repining,
 O! let me but believe,
'These pleasures are not lost to her,'
 And I will cease to grieve.

O, scorn not Nature's bounties!
 My soul partakes with thee.
Drink bliss from all her fountains,
 Drink for thyself and me!
Say not, 'My soul is buried
 In dungeon gloom with thine;'
But say, 'His heart is here with me;
 His spirit drinks with mine.'

A.E.