Lord, this I never had to ask
Did she, my older love, remain,
Without whom life's a loathsome task,
But full of sorrow, strife, and pain;
Had she been faithful, fair and true
Much as she promised me to be,
And not to do as women do,
Which I believed - so look at me!
My heart and soul to her I gave,
Naive because I loved too well
A person I might never have
Nor what we had must ever tell.
Wherefore, dear Lord, do I beseech
To compa** loves within my reach.