Page:Poems Truesdell.djvu/80

That seems to wreath itself around
 This wounded heart of mine,
Alas, that 'mid our dearest joys
 A dark wreath should entwine!

When first I met thee, thou didst seem
 All that was fond and gay;
Thy gentle voice, thy winning mien
 Could chase e'en care away.

But now, thy voice has ceased to charm;
 Thy mien is cold and proud;
And that once sunny brow of thine
 Forever wears a cloud.

What changed thee thus?—what changed thee thus
 I can not dare surmise:
Perhaps thou hast found a faire face?
 Perhaps some brighter eyes?

Oh, yes, they tell me thou art false,
 And love another now!
Then be it so, I'll wear again
 The cypress round my brow.