I remember when we did kiss and part,
Where I bade farewell and tore us apart,
That I ceased and caressed thy withered brow,
Then seemed a dark night too wicked and slow.
One decade has gone since the faultful night,
And I wonder who has spotted thee bright,
For I hear of thee fettered, and in woe,
With the former light burning down and low.
Then do I think of the most empty vase;
A forgotten smile, a woebegone face,
And those yesterdays I called thee sweet rose,
When lay thee embowered in love’s sweet prose.
Had thee but seen how hidden kept my fears,
When thought I in secret, of looming tears,
And one shortcoming of letting thee weep
For love foiled, and sorrowful nights to keep!
A poem by Lancelot