oh , Lizzie.

 Oh never weep for love that’s dead

Since love is seldom true

But changes his fashion from blue to red,

From brightest red to blue,

And love was born to an early death

And is so seldom true.

Then harbour no smile on your bonny face

To win the deepest sigh.

The fairest words on truest lips

Pass on and surely die,

And you will stand alone, my dear,

When wintry winds draw nigh.

Sweet, never weep for what cannot be,

For this God has not given.

If the merest dream of love were true

Then, sweet, we should be in heaven,

And this is only earth, my dear,

Where true love is not given.

Elizabeth Siddal