English poem
Dearly Do I Love Thee
by Anonymous
Ah! dear Margella! maid divine, No more will I at fate repine, If I this day behold thee mine, For dearly do I love thee.
Thy ease shall be my sweet employ, My constant care, my ev'ry joy; May then no chance my hope destroy, For dearly do I love thee.
Sweet is the woodbine to the bee: The rising sun to ev'ry tree, But sweeter far art thou to me, For dearly do I love thee.
And let me but behold thee mine, No more will I at fate repine, But while I live, thou maid divine, With rapture do I love thee.