This much am I to you—
If I departed out of your house
Coming no more at all—
You would wait a while tis true
You would lift your voice—You would call—
You would take some Lover into your house
And be to him all in all.
This much am I to you—
As I take delight with you in your house—
And live your love of all.
I do not hold you true—
I know some day you will fall,—
A horror will come on your gilded house
Turning delight to gall.
Yet still I hold to you—
Living with you at ease in your house
I count the gain not small.
* * * * *
When the years shall come to both of us
When all old pleasures pall,—
When kisses fail, and we love not thus,
Nor hold Love all in all—
You will pass away to another house
Silent and funeral—
You will veil your head in the empty house
Nor hear me when I call—
Oh woman our Love will go from us,
Coming no more at all!
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