Farewell, sweet Love! yet blame you not my truth;
       &nbspMore fondly ne'er did mother eye her child
Than I your form: yours were my hopes of youth,
       &nbspAnd as you shaped my thoughts I sighed or smiled.

While most were wooing wealth, or gaily swerving
       &nbspTo pleasure's secret haunts, and some apart
Stood strong in pride, self-conscious of deserving,
       &nbspTo you I gave my whole weak wishing heart.

And when I met the maid that realised
       &nbspYour fair creations, and had won her kindness,
Say, but for her if aught on earth I prized!
       &nbspYour dreams alone I dreamt, and caught your blindness.

O grief!—but farewell, Love! I will go play me
With thoughts that please me less, and less betray me.