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(22 March 1808 – 15 June 1877 / London)

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Mary

YES, we were happy once, and care
My jocund heart could ne'er surprise;
My treasures were, her golden hair,
Her ruby lips, her brilliant eyes.
My treasures were--alas! depart
Ye visions of what used to be!
Cursed be the heart--the cruel heart--
That stole my Mary's love from me.

Dark are my joyless days--and thou--
Dost thou too dream, and dreaming weep?
Or, careless of thy broken vow,
Unholy revels dost thou keep?
No, Mary, no,--we loved too well,
Such deep oblivion cannot be;
Cursed be the lips, where guile could dwell,
To lure thy love away from me!

It cannot be!--ah! haply, while
With wild reproach I greet thy name,
Thy ruby lip hath ceased to smile--
Thy happy head is bowed with shame!
Haply, with haggard want opprest,
Thou weepest where no eye may see;
Cursed be the spoiler's cruel breast--
But, oh! my Mary--heaven shield thee!

Submitted: Thursday, April 15, 2010


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