281
The sun forgets to warm the earth.
Forgets to light the sky;
I fear me lest the wandering bird
May, houseless, shivering, die!
Forgive me, Helen—thou art free
To keep, or quit, the nest
I built for thee, and sheltered in
The foliage of my breast,
And fenced so well none other might
Be harbour'd there as guest.
Flee if thou wilt—if other love
Thy fickle heart enfold,
Thou'rt free to rove where fancy waves
Her wand of fairy gold—
But Helen, ere thou canst return,
This bosom will be cold!
