Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/158

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Timid as the tale of woe, Tender as the wood-dove's sigh, Lovely as the flowers below, Changeless as the stars on high, Made all chance and change to prove, And this is a woman's love.

  " changed, fair lady," laughing said A girl beside, whose chestnut hair Was wreathed with the wild vine leaves spread, As if that she some wood nymph were; And darker were her brow and cheek, And richer in their crimson break, Than those of the fair ring beside. In sooth, had often tried 