Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea;
     The cloud may stoop from heaven and take the shape, 
     With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape;
But O too fond, when have I answer’d thee? 
                              Ask me no more.

Ask me no more: what answer should I give? 
     I love not hollow cheek or faded eye: 
     Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die!
Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live; 
                              Ask me no more.

Ask me no more: thy fate and mine are seal’d; 
     I strove against the stream and all in vain; 
     Let the great river take me to the main:
No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield; 
                              Ask me no more.