How vain to cast my love away
On bosom false as thine;
The floweret's bloom, that springs in May,
Would be a safer shrine
To build my fondest hopes upon,
Tho' fragile it may be.
That flower's smile is not sooner gone
Than love that trusts to thee.
Love asks a calm, a gentle home,
Or else its life is o'er;
If once you let its pinions roam,
Oh! then 'tis love no more.
The aspin's changefuI shade can be
No shelter for the dove;
And hearts as varying as that tree,
Are sure no place for love.
Hope linger'd long and anxiously,
O'er failing faith, but now
I give thee back each heartless sigh,
Give back each broken vow.
I'll trust the stay of tulip dyes,
The calm of yon wild sea,
The sunshine of the April skies,
But never more to thee!
