Her First Sorrow

’T is but a score of hours when he didst swear
My sorrow and my joy to share,
  Despite the fates, fore’er;
But now he’s gone to cash again his lie;
  Others his shame with me will wear,
          Why should I die?

Last night his lips my very feet didst burn;
His kisses dropt, my love to earn,
  Whichever way he’d turn;
But now he’s gone another soul to rob.
  Another heart to lure and spurn,
          Why should I sob?

He did not kiss me when he said good-bye;
I let him go, not asking why,
  Nor do I for him sigh;
He’s gone another virgin breast to tear,
  He’s gone on other lips to die,
          Why should I care?