I know not if the love be dead
I sang of once, or only asleep;
The feet of my joy no longer tread
In the pulses of my heart: is this
The measure that they used to keep?
Now all the old tunes are sung amiss,
And all the old words they said are said;
Is it that the old love is dead,
Or sleeps, and will awaken from sleep?
O love, not dead, so soon to awake,
Too idle-happy to know content,
Sorrow has come: come, sorrow, make
The feet of my joy remember soon;
My heart remembers the words that went,
Once, to an old and happy tune,
When love was grave, for no sorrow's sake;
Shall love, that slept, again be awake,
And this kind sorrow bring back content?
