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the blighted heart.
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The Blighted Heart.
She never named him, never,
And they deemed he was forgot,
Yet she loved him dear as ever,
Although she named him not.
She thought on fond words spoken,
On joys for ever gone,
On plighted vows now broken,
On her loved but faithless one.

She met the gay each morrow,
And tried to join their laugh,
She dared not tell her sorrow,
Lest heartless ones should scoff;
Her jetty eye was tearless,
Yet its dark and steadfast ray
Spoke anguish deep and cheerless,
Too keen to weep away.

The lily seemed not whiter
Than her cheek, so sadly fair,
And her pale, pale brow gleamed brighter
'Neath her rich, dark, flowing hair.
What though she did endeavour
To seem gayest round the hearth?
Her smile! ah, never, never
Could it be the smile of mirth.