THE LOVER URGES THE BETTER THRIFT

1893

My Fair, no beauty of thine will last

Save in my love's eternity.

Thy smiles, that light thee fitfully,

Are lost for ever -- their moment past --

Except the few thou givest to me.

Thy sweet words vanish day by day,

As all breath of mortality;

Thy laughter, done, must cease to be,

And all thy dear tones pass away,
Except the few that sing to me.

Hide then within my heart, O hide
All thou art loth should go from thee.

Be kinder to thyself and me.

My cupful from this river's tide
Shall never reach the long sad sea.

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