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But now I would have given worlds To change the crimson hectic's flame For the pure rose of health; to live For the dear life that Love could give. Oh, youth may sicken at its bloom, And wealth and fame pray for the tomb;— But can Love bear from Love to part, And not cling to that one dear heart? I shrank away from death,—my tears Had been unwept in other years:— But thus, in Love's first ecstasy, Was it not worse than death to die? ! I would live for thee! But thou wilt have to weep for me! That sun has kissed the morning dews,— I shall not see its twilight close!