Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/738

 LORD BYRON

Pale grew thy cheek and cold,

Colder thy kiss; Truly that hour foretold

Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning

Sunk chill on my biow It felt like the warning

Of what I feel now. Thy vows arc all broken,

And light is thy fame' I hear thy name spoken,

And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,

A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o'er me

Why wert thou so dear ? They know not I knew thee,

Who knew thee too well Long, long shall I rue thee,

Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met

In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget,

Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee

After long years, How should I greet thee?

With silence and tears.

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