The faith of years is broken, The fate of years is spoken, Years past, and years to come; I pity and I scorn thee, I would not now adorn me For thy false bridal home. Yet thou, perfidious wooer, Thou yet mayst be the ruer, For thou mayst meet with one Who will not love thee really, But cast kind glances merely That thou mayst be undone. Soft eyes, and dark, and flashing, Thy hopes may yet be dashing, Thou yet mayst be deceived; And then think on her sadly, Whom once thou grievedst gladly, Ere thou thyself wast grieved. And if despair should seize thee, And urge thee to release thee From weariness and life, Oh! think on her who'll languish, Bearing the bitter anguish Of a heart's bitter strife. For, though I may not love thee, Though calm as heaven above me, My thoughts of thee must be, I cannot break so lightly The chain that bound me tightly, @3Once@1 bound my soul to thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOST MISTRESS by ROBERT BROWNING CATTLE SHOW by CHRISTOPHER MURRAY GRIEVE MINSTREL OF THE SUN by FREDERICK HENRY HERBERT ADLER FIRST NEWS FROM VILLAFRANCA by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 11 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: FATIMA by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |