The Wilted Leaf
WILTED is the leaf, and blown
By the cold wind up and down,
That beheld thy promise fair,
Maiden with the dark brown hair!
Shatter’d is this heart, and hurl’d
By its grief-storm thro’ the world,
Since it won that promise rare,
Maiden with the dark-brown hair!
Go thy ways! thy locks upbraid!
Thou hast but thyself betray’d,
And must e’en my pity share,
Maiden with the dark-brown hair!
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