Ah, leave me not to pine
Alone and desolate;
No fate seemed fair as mine,
No happiness so great!
And Nature, day by day,
Has sung in accents clear
This joyous roundelay,
"He loves thee - he is here.
Fa la la la,
Fa la la la.
He loves thee - he is here.
Fa la la la fa la."
Ah, must I leave thee here
In endless night to dream,
Where joy is dark and drear,
And sorrow all supreme -
Where nature, day by day,
Will sing, in altered tone,
This weary roundelay,
"He loves thee - he is gone.
Fa la la la,
Fa la la la.
He loves thee - he is gone.
Fa la la la fa la."
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