POEMS.
3
For well alas! too well I know,
He is the source of every woe,
To faith a stranger, 'gainst contrition steeled;
But yet when first the false one came,
And kindled in my heart a flame,
Who had believed Deceit in such a form concealed!
He is the source of every woe,
To faith a stranger, 'gainst contrition steeled;
But yet when first the false one came,
And kindled in my heart a flame,
Who had believed Deceit in such a form concealed!
He begged so gently on my breast
Awhile his little head to rest!
He seemed so good, so grateful, and so meek!
He said, "he long had sought around
"A resting place—but none had found!—
"And then I saw a tear pearl down his rosy cheek.
Awhile his little head to rest!
He seemed so good, so grateful, and so meek!
He said, "he long had sought around
"A resting place—but none had found!—
"And then I saw a tear pearl down his rosy cheek.
Who could, unmoved, his accents hear?
Who had not wiped away that tear?
His tale of guile my ready ear believed;
He looked so sweet, he spoke so fair,
With ease the traitor gained his prayer,
And in my heart of hearts with transport was received.
Who had not wiped away that tear?
His tale of guile my ready ear believed;
He looked so sweet, he spoke so fair,
With ease the traitor gained his prayer,
And in my heart of hearts with transport was received.
