Page:Forget Me Not 1828.pdf/5



I gave thee, love, a snow-white wreath Of lilies for thy raven hair; Alas! that now another’s gift, Rubies and gold, should glitter there.

I saw this morn that lily wreath Neglected thrown upon the ground, And then I saw upon thy brow The chaplet of those rubies bound.

’Tis no new passion, no new face, Hath won thy fickle heart from me; That I had better borne than know That gold hath wrought this change in thee.