Mithbolra - he thinks I'm sweet

MOTHER, I CANNOT MIND MY WHEEL
By Walter Savage Landor

Mother, I cannot mind my wheel;
         My fingers ache, my lips are dry:
Oh! if you felt the pain I feel!
         But Oh, who ever felt as I!

No longer could I doubt him true;
         All other men may use deceit:
He always said my eyes were blue,
         And often swore my lips were sweet.

Analysis
No matter how old and how tired you are, your true love always loves you, finds you beautiful and thinks you speak sweetly.  

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