Let Me Die Or Mourn

Accompany not; let me mourn. Till it is a fine morn, I want but to be alone. It’s not for your sour scorn That I deeply mourn, But for, away, you are to be gone. Stop, my girl, all your whine, And get your heart be calm down. It is your love that turns slow; And my face goes below. Only tears come to my aid Since none is to hide. Touch me not by your hands; Touch me but by your wants. It’s you, who matters me high, Aye, keep me beneath your eye, ‘Tis all that I pray. And if you think of me not to pry, Just, just let me die.