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POEMS.
77


THE INCONSTANT'S APOLOGY.

Love, I've lov'd you passing well,
Loved you long, and loved sincerely;
How I loved, no tongue can tell,
'Twas so truly, 'twas so dearly;
But my fond delirium o'er,
Love, adieu;—We'll love no more.

When I owned your Beauty's sway,
All my vows were gospel-true, Love;
That I'm changed, no doubt, you'll say;
Ah! believe me, so are you, Love.
Bloom departing, youth removed,
You 're no more the love I loved!