How would my inmost heart have shrank,
If then I could have known,
Pass a few years, and I should stand
Beside that lake alone!
That I—so cherished, loved, carest—
Must learn to live apart,
Bear with unkindness, wrong, and all
That breaks a woman's heart.
I should have died; and would that then
It had been mine to die!
I should have been but as the lute,
Broken by its first sigh.—
I sought the world, and for a while
Mine was a splendid dream—
Of lighted halls, of palaces.
Of music, bloom, and beam.
My soul was sick, my ear grew pal'ed;
I felt that pleasure’s gem
Could not be found in courtly scenes,
The heart was not with them.
But I had yet the worst to learn:
There was one dream that still
Held empire o'er my soul, that seemed
Above all chance of ill.
I thought it—as I thought the stars
All earthly change above;
When that I say that dream was false,
I scarce need say—'twas love.
And thus could change avail to rend
Affection's early band;
Ah! she who builds her hope on love,
Has built indeed on sand.
But see—the wind has swept a leaf
From yonder willow tree.
And it is sailing down the lake;
Let that the emblem be.
As well you might hope that slight leaf,
With its white flower, would sail
In safety down, as trust to love;—
Love's bark is yet more frail.
That flower will sink, and will not mark
A trace on wave or wind;
But when love disappears, it leaves
A broken heart behind. L. E. L.
