Mary
YES, we were happy once, and care
My jocund heart could ne’er surprise;
My treasures were, her golden hair,
Her ruby lips, her brilliant eyes.
My treasures were—alas! depart
Ye visions of what used to be!
Cursed be the heart—the cruel heart—
That stole my Mary’s love from me.
Dark are my joyless days—and thou—
Dost thou too dream, and dreaming weep?
Or, careless of thy broken vow,
Unholy revels dost thou keep?
No, Mary, no,—we loved too well,
Such deep oblivion cannot be;
Cursed be the lips, where guile could dwell,
To lure thy love away from me!
It cannot be!—ah! haply, while
With wild reproach I greet thy name,
Thy ruby lip hath ceased to smile—
Thy happy head is bowed with shame!
Haply, with haggard want opprest,
Thou weepest where no eye may see;
Cursed be the spoiler’s cruel breast—
But, oh! my Mary—heaven shield thee!
