The Sailor's Sweetheart

O if love were had for asking, In the markets of the town, Hardly a lass would think to wear A fine silken gown: But love is had by grieving By choosing and by leaving, And there's no one now to ask me If heavy lies my heart. O if love were had for a deep wish In the deadness of the night, There'd be a truce to longing Between the dusk and the light: But love is had for sighing, For living and for dying, And there's no one now to ask me If heavy lies my heart. O if love were had for taking Like honey from the hive, The bees that made the tender stuff Could hardly keep alive: But love it is a wounded thing, A tremor and a smart, And there's no one left to kiss me now Over my heavy heart.