Page:The Improvisatrice.pdf/131

Rh

A little while her dream of bliss remained,— A little while Love's wings were left unchained. But change came o'er the trusted : His heart forgot its vowed idolatry; And his forgotten love was left to brood O'er wrongs and ruin in her solitude! How very desolate that breast must be, Whose only joyance is in memory! And what must woman suffer, thus betrayed?— Her heart's most warm and precious feelings made But things wherewith to wound: that heart—so weak, So soft—laid open to the vulture's beak! Its sweet revealings given up to scorn It burns to bear, and yet that must be borne!