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THE FORSAKEN.
161
Will a smile bring back to my lip its red,
Or the azure light from my blue eye fled?
Efface from the faded brow and cheek
The tale that tells my heart must break?
No! I will away to my solitude,
And hang my head in my darkened mood;
Passing away, with a silent sigh,
Unknown, unwept, and thus will I die!
Farewell, farewell! I have but one prayer—
That no thought may haunt thee of my despair;
Be my memory to thee a pleasant thing,
An odour that came and past with thy spring.
Forget me,—I would not have thee know
Of the youth and bloom thy falseness laid low;
That the green grass grows, the cypresses wave,
And the death-stone lies on thy once love’s grave!
L. E. L.
