FAREWELL TO LOVE

Farewell, sweet Love! yet blame you not my truth;

More fondly ne'er did mother eye her child

Than I your form: yours were my hopes of youth,

And as you shaped my thoughts I sighed or smiled.

While most were wooing wealth, or gaily swerving

To pleasure's secret haunts, and some apart

Stood strong in pride, self-conscious of deserving,

To you I gave my whole weak wishing heart.

And when I met the maid that realised

Your fair creations, and had won her kindness,

Say, but for her if aught on earth I prized!

Your dreams alone I dreamt, and caught your blindness.

O grief!— but farewell, Love! I will go play me

With thoughts that please me less, and less betray me.