The Sailor's Sweetheart

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O if love were had for asking,
  In the markets of the town,
Hardly a lass would think to wear
  A fine silken gown:
But love is had by grieving
By choosing and by leaving,
And there's no one now to ask me
If heavy lies my heart.

O if love were had for a deep wish
  In the deadness of the night,
There'd be a truce to longing
  Between the dusk and the light:
But love is had for sighing,
For living and for dying,
And there's no one now to ask me
If heavy lies my heart.

O if love were had for taking
  Like honey from the hive,
The bees that made the tender stuff
  Could hardly keep alive:
But love it is a wounded thing,
A tremor and a smart,
And there's no one left to kiss me now
Over my heavy heart.

© Duncan Campbell Scott