BEFORE AND AFTER

Before I lost my love, he said to me:

‘ Sweetheart, I like deep azure tints on you.’

But I, perverse as any girl will be

Who has too many lovers, wore not blue.

He said,‘ I love to see my lady's hair

Coiled low like Clytie's — with no wanton curl.’

But I, like any silly, wilful girl,

Said,‘ Donald likes it high,’ and wore it there.

He said,‘ I wish, love, when you sing to me,

You would sing sweet, sad things — they suit your voice.’

I tossed my head, and sung light strains of glee —

Saying,‘ This song, or that, is Harold's choice.’

But now I wear no colour — none but blue.

Low in my neck I coil my silken hair.

He does not know it, but I strive to do

Whatever in his eyes would make me fair.

I sing no songs but those he loved the best.

( Ah! well, no wonder: for the mournful strain

Is but the echo of the voice of pain,

That sings so mournfully within my breast. )

I would not wear a ribbon or a curl

For Donald, if he died from my neglect —

Oh me! how many a vain and wilful girl

Learns true love's worth, but — when her life is wrecked.