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50 WILLOW DROPS For in thy absence still my pain increases, And grief coils round my mind her crushing folds. Man's passions, like refracted rays of light, Chameleonize all things on which they play; Now my despair, into the noon of night, Társ, as by magic black, the noon of day. There's gloom on earth, and gloom in sky and air, Gloom in mead-gloom in street-gloom in my room; Gloom-gloom in sun and moon and stars so fair,- And in my heart,-the darkness of the tomb! Though false to truth and faithless to thy vow, Though grown so cold-unkind-and hard to me, Though like the fickle moon inconstant thou ;-- Like dews to dusk, I still am true to thee! O truth in happier hours between us plighted! O promises by her so oft repeated! O vows so wormly made, but now so slighted! O Love,-all-conquering Love, by her defeated! Where are ye filed! Ah, cast to winds of heav'n! But still my heart, as looks a blasted tree Skywards whence flashed the fire by which 'twas riv'n. Turns to its tyrant,-turns, my love, to thee! Thou didst love me once as thy own dear breath, And call me, 'my life," sitting by my side ; Beseems thee then with scom to cause my death My death! nay, rather thy own suicide !
