Why would I ever go away?
What would my purpose be to leave?
I cannot understand a way
In which it would not make me grieve
To part with her to whom I'm bound.
Why then would I be dumb enough
To find a foolish, useless ground
(Perhaps to demonstrate I'm tough?)
On which to bring down that much woe
Upon my own and proper head?
If I were sad, I would not go;
I would much rather stay instead
For staying would more joy allow
In future times - as it does now.
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