If all the words you spoke, dear, Were every one untrue, There can be nothing good, dear, In earth, or sun, or dew; And all the world's a lie, dear, Because of you. If all the smiles you gave, dear, Were only to beguile, Why then there's nothing sweet, dear, In any human smile; And what we deem most fair, dear, Is only vile. If every kiss that lingered Upon the lips you pressed, Was but an empty token, More fickle than the rest; I wish that I had died, dear, For death were best. |