YOU swore you loved me all last June: And now December's come and gone. The Summer went with you -- too soon. The Winter goes -- alone. Next Spring the leaves will all be green: But love like ours, once turned to pain, Can be no more what it hath been, Though roses bloom again. Return, return the unvalued wealth I gave! which scarcely profits you -- The heart's lost youth -- the soul's lost health -- In vain! ...false friend, adieu! I keep one faded violet Of all once ours, -- you left no more. What I have lost I may forget, But you cannot restore. |