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DISENCHANTMENT.
Do not ask me why I loved him,
Love’s cause is to love unknown;
Faithless as the past has proved him,
Once his heart appeared mine own.
Do not say he did not merit
All my fondness, all my truth;
Those in whom love dwells inherit
Every dream that haunted youth.
He might not be all I dreamed him,
Noble, generous, gifted, true,
Not the less I fondly deemed him,
All those flattering visions drew.
All the hues of old romances
By his actual self grew dim;
Bitterly I mock the fancies
That once found their life in him.
From the hour by him enchanted,
From the moment when we met,
Henceforth with one image haunted,
Life may never more forget.
All my nature changed—his being
Seemed the only source of mine.
Fond heart, hadst thou no foreseeing
Thy sad future to divine?
Once, upon myself relying,
All I asked were words and thought;
Many hearts to mine replying,
Owned the music that I brought.
Eager, spiritual, and lonely,
Visions filled the fairy hour,
Deep with love—though love was only
Not a presence, but a power.
But from that first hour I met thee,
All caught actual life from you.
Alas! how can I forget thee,
Thou who mad’st the fancied true?
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