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LORD BYRON
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss; Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.
The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my biow It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now. Thy vows arc all broken,
And light is thy fame' I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o'er me
Why wert thou so dear ? They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met
In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee
After long years, How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.
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