  WHEN did the change come, dearest Heart of mine, Whom Love loves so? When did Love’s moon less brightly seem to shine, While to and fro, And soft and slow, Chill winds began to move in its decline? When did the change come, thou who wast mine own? When heard the rose First far-off winds begin to moan, At sunset’s close, When sad Love goes About the autumn woods to brood alone? When did the change come in thy heart, sweetheart,— Thy heart so dear to me? My part to thee, Whose deity My soul confesses, and how fair thou art? Alas for poor changed Love! We cannot say What changes Love. My love would not suffice to make your day Now gladly move, Though kisses strove With answering kisses, in Love’s sweetest way. But though I know you changed, right well I know That should we meet, Deep in your heart some love for me would glow; Though not that heat Which made it beat So fast with joy two years—one year ago. |
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