Page:Literary Souvenir 1827.pdf/10

Rh

I will not own a brighter eye Than mine has caught your truant sigh,— I will not own a fairer brow Than mine has made you captive now.

I deem my eye is still as bright As when it fixed your charmed sight; I deem my brow is still as fair As when you gazed and worshipped there.

But well I know that they have been Once, twice, or thrice already seen,— I know the charm of change too well Not to bow down to such a spell.

Love's vows are writ upon the wave, And are unto themselves a grave. They call Love ever young; but he Is as old age in memory.

Farewell then, sometime love of mine, Yet claim I gratitude of thine; Surely that love is something worth Whose death is laughing as its birth.

L. E. L.