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RENUNCIATION.
Here are the letters, and here is the ring,Does it slip off easily? No.But clings with a touch unbecoming,The hands that tremble so.
Weak? not weak, but oppressed,With a nameless dread and a fear,That he will note the decline,Of the repellant force I would bear.
Here is a rose and a lily,Faded, and pressed with care,And here is a mocking curl,Of silken, dead-gold hair.
Ah well! what is Life but loving,And loving is folly and strife,But better the maid should discover,This truth, than the stricken wife.
Sunshine and shadow, they go to make,The seasons and cycles of Time,
