Page:Poems PiattVol2.djvu/166

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154
HER METAPHORS.
A pearl cast at thy feet
And worn by thee an hour,
Then left where fierce waves beat,
The plaything of their power—
     Am I not this to thee?

A half remembered strain,
That once could charm thine ear,
Whose music thou again
Wilt sometimes sigh to hear—
     Am I not this to thee?