ÆäÀÌÁö À̹ÌÁö
PDF
ePub

XXVI.

A SONG.

1.

THOU art not false, but thou art fickle,

To those thyself so fondly sought;

The tears that thou hast forced to trickle
Are doubly bitter from that thought:

'Tis this which breaks the heart thou grievest,

Too well thou lov'st-too soon thou leavest.

2.

The wholly false the heart despises,

And

spurns deceiver and deceit;

But she who not a thought disguises,

Whose love is as sincere as sweet,

When she can change who loved so truly, It feels what mine has felt so newly.

3.

To dream of joy and wake to sorrow
Is doomed to all who love or live;

And if, when conscious on the morrow,
We scarce our fancy can forgive,

That cheated us in slumber only,

To leave the waking soul more lonely,

4.

What must they feel whom no false vision, But truest, tenderest passion warmed?

Sincere, but swift in sad transition,

As if a dream alone had charmed?

Ah! sure such grief is fancy's scheming,

And all thy change can be but dreaming!

XXVII.

On being asked what was the "Origin of Love?"

THE "Origin of Love!"-Ah why

That cruel question ask of me,

When thou may'st read in many an eye

He starts to life on seeing thee?

And should'st thou seek his end to know:

My heart forebodes, my fears foresee, He'll linger long in silent woe;

But live-until I cease to be.

[blocks in formation]
« ÀÌÀü°è¼Ó »