The Princess: A Medley: Ask me no more

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Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea;
 The cloud may stoop from heaven and take the shape,
 With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape;
But O too fond, when have I answer'd thee?
  Ask me no more.
Ask me no more: what answer should I give?
 I love not hollow cheek or faded eye:
 Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die!
Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live;
 Ask me no more.

Ask me no more: thy fate and mine are seal'd:
  I strove against the stream and all in vain:
  Let the great river take me to the main:
No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield;
 Ask me no more.

© Alfred Tennyson