Page:Forget Me Not 1828.pdf/4



But thou art yet less fair than pale— Pale!—it is but a bride’s sweet sorrow; Fling over her the silver veil— That cheek will be more bright to-morrow.

No more, no more!—the rose hath said Farewell to that pale cheek for ever; Those gems may cast a meteor red Upon that face, but the heart never.

Those eyes have tears they may not weep, Those lips words never to be spoken: As weak as frail, thou canst not keep, Nor yet forget, vows thou hast broken.

Her eye is on the mirror fixed, Yet sees she not on what she gazes; The past has with the present mixed, Till both seem one in memory’s mazes.

That long past hour—what doth it here, The slumbering pulses to awaken? His image—how can that be dear?— His image whom thou hast forsaken?

What does it here?—that cypress grove, That hour of moonlight and of dreaming; That one fond dream of early love, Half of life’s worldliness redeeming?

The curl he took, the ring he gave— The vow that bound your hearts together! O froth, such is on ocean’s wave! O change, such is in April weather!

And has that fickle heart been won By baubles such as those around thee? This chain of gold—is this the one In which thy newer love has bound thee?

Go, queen it in the lightest hall; Be there the gayest and the brightest: Soon words were little to recall What now in vanity thou slightest.

Go, glittering slave! go, school thy brow: Henceforth thy heart must still its beating; Go forth—thy lord awaits thy vow— Thy lover! shrinkest thou from such meeting?

In vain! thine early dream is past, Thy heart is sold—there are its fetters:— Love’s flowery contract did not last; This may—’tis writ in golden letters.

O shame, that ever this should be! Gold thus o’er love and faith prevailing! Great curse! where shall we ﬂy from thee, When even woman’s faith is failing?