And you took my young heart,
And what did you grave there,
But a deep and deadly lesson,
Its first and last despair.
I am but young in life,
But I have lived thro' years
Of heart burning and sorrow,
Of silence and of tears:
But I am too proud to pine,
And my tears shall be as streams
Cave-locked beneath the earth,
Of whose flowing no one dreams.
I have taught myself to feign
Smiles, till those smiles are now
A second nature to my lip,
A second to my brow.
And when I hear of love,
I will spurn and scorn the name,
Nor ever own I weep; my heart
Is ashes, but not flame.
Aye! it is pride to think
How much the spirit feels
Of agony, and yet
How little it reveals.
Oh, mockery! I would give worlds,
If I could dream again
The dreams, which even in my sleep
I now know are so vain.
But never can I feel
Again as I have done;
And, alas! the waste of life,
When love is wholly gone.L. E. L.
