Farewell! and when the charm of change
Has sunk, as all must sink, in shade;
When joy, a wearied bird, begins
The wing to droop, the plume to fade;
When thou thyself, at length, has felt
What thou hast made another feel—
The hope that sickens to despair,
The wound that time may sear, not heal;
When thou shalt pine for some fond heart
To beat in answering thine again;—
Then, false one, think once more on me,
And sigh to think it is in vain.