I Wonder If You Always Tell The Truth

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Would that thy rain fall ne'ermore on my ground,
Those dreams to yield, possessed by I so dear;
Then nevermore shall reign over me, bound
In their vulgar tongue, tyrannical tears.
Would that thy dear sun be ever out-burnt,
Dark be this heart 'til love's light recovered.
Never shall I live, content with what weren't,
Nor by its dark will my heart be smothered.
Would that thine eyes flash not once in my way;
Thy stars torn down from their Heavenly seat -
Fate's cold eyes, instead, set on me as clay,
Misshapen vessel, this fortune to cheat.
Would that thy heart beat for me never sole,
Condemned to live, a mere half of a whole.