Mathilde Blind

* * *

Ah, yesterday was dark and drear,
    My heart was deadly sore;
Without thy love it seemed, my Dear,
    That I could live no more.

And yet I laugh and sing to-day;
    Care or care not for me,
Thou canst not take the love away
    With which I worship thee.

And if to-morrow, Dear, I live,
    My heart I shall not break:
For still I hold it that to give
    Is sweeter than to take.