A la tristeza

To Sorrow
I bade good morrow,
And thought to leave her far away behind;
But cheerly, cheerly,
She loves me dearly;
She is so constant to me, and so kind:
I would deceive her
And so leave her,
But ah! she is so constant and so kind

Fragmento de: "Song of the Indian Maid" de "Endymion" obra de John Keats