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60
JULIET AFTER THE MASQUERADE.
XIV.
So young, so fair, to die—
And can those words be true?
Ah! better far 'to die,'
Than live as some must do;
XV.
With a heart that will not break,
Though every nerve be strained,
Whether won to be betrayed,
Or discovered and disdained:—
XVI.
For Love to watch Hope's grave,
And yet itself breathe on,
Like the blighted flower which lives,
Tho' scent and bloom be gone.
XVII.
But this watching each last leaf,
Green on the fading tree,
The while we see it wither,
Is maiden not for thee.
XVIII,
One hour of passionate joy,
And one of passionate grief—
A morning and a midnight—
Fill up thy life's short leaf!
