  What tho' you loved me once? Man's love at best Is but a mood—the fancy of an hour, You held all faith and truth a theme for jest, Love's recompense, a smile. You knew your power. What tho' you loved me then? You went away And left my life an arid waste of pain; And now—your best years spent, your idols clay— You stretch imploring arms to me again. What tho' you love me still? What tho' you say The current of your life toward mine is set, As vagrant stars obey the planets' sway, Or perfume clingeth to the violet? What tho' I once loved you? See in yon West Day's fires have burned to ashes cold and gray; By its own flame consumed, is dead for aye. |
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