Page:Heath's Book of Beauty 1833.pdf/8

54

She was the loveliest lady of our line, But of a cold proud heauty;.... Yet gentle blushes had been on that cheek, And tenderness within those dark blue eyes. Sometimes, in twilight and in solitude, There was a mournful song she used to sing— But only then.

! and when the charm of change Has faded, as all else will fade; When Joy, a wearied bird, begins To droop the wing, to seek the shade;—

When thine own heart at length has felt, What thou hast made another feel— The hope that sickens to despair, The wound that time may sear, not heal;—

When thou shalt pine for some fond heart To beat in answering thine again;— Then, false one! think once more on me, And sigh to know it is in vain.