And threw it round her—"See how slight
The fragile links that here unite.
Yet try, Christine, and all in vain,—
You cannot break the slender chain;
This be our emblem, sweet, farewell! [1]
He kissed the teardrops as they fell.
They parted—he for festival
And beauty's lighted coronal,
And all the meteor spells that try
The strength of absent constancy;
And even as all changed around,
The change in his own heart was found;
The dance's gayest cavalier,
Who soonest won a lady's ear
With soft words, wandering amid many,
And true to none, yet vowed to any.
'Tis ever thus;—alas! there clings
The curse of change to earthly things;—
The flower fades, the green leaf dies,
A cloud steals over April skies,—
Tides turn their course, stars fall, winds range,
But more than all these, love will change.
Not so Christine,—day after day,
She watched and wept o'er hope's decay:
At last hope died, she felt it vain
To hope or dream of hope again.
It was one noon she chanced to look
On the clear mirror of the brook,
- ↑ Presumably a closing speech mark should have been here
