Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/50

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10
HOURS OF IDLENESS.


3.

Whene'er we meet my blushes rise,
 And mantle through my purpled cheek,
But yet no blush to mine replies,
 Nor e'en your eyes your love bespeak.


4.

Your voice alone declares your flame,
And though so sweet it breathes my name,
Our passions still are not the same;
 Alas! you cannot love like me.


5.

For e'en your lip seems steep'd in snow,
 And though so oft it meets my kiss,
It burns with no responsive glow,
 Nor melts like mine in dewy bliss.


6.

Ah! what are words to love like mine
Though uttered by a voice like thine,
I still in murmurs must repine,
 And think that love can ne'er be true,


7.

Which meets me with no joyous sign,
 Without a sigh which bids adieu;
How different is my love from thine,
 How keen my grief when leaving you.