A Poem by Thomas Moore
Here , take my heart — ‘t will be safe in thy keeping,
While I go wandering o’er land and o’er sea;
Smiling or sorrowing, waking or sleeping,
What need I care, so my heart is with thee?
If in the race we are destined to run, love,
They who have light hearts the happiest be,
Then happier still must be they who have none, love,
And that will be my case when mine is with thee.
It matters not where I may now be a rover,
I care not how many bright eyes I may see;
Should Venus herself come and ask me to love her,
I’d tell her I could n’t — my heart is with thee.
And there let it lie, growing fonder and fonder —
For, even should Fortune turn truant to me,
Why, let her go — I ‘ve a treasure beyond her,
As long as my heart ‘s out at interest with thee!