Your days will be full of cares, if you must give me your heart.
My house by the cross—roads has its doors open and my mind is
absent, —for I sing.
I shall never be made to answer for it, if you must give me
your heart. If I pledge my word to you in tunes now, and am too
much in earnest to keep it when music is silent, you must forgive
me; for the law laid down in May is best broken in December.
Do not always keep remembering it, if you must give me your
heart. When your eyes sing with love, and your voice ripples with
laughter, my answers to your questions will be wild, and not
miserly accurate in facts, —they are to be believed for ever and
then forgotten for good.

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