University of Virginia Library


396

IX. HEART-ACHE

My First's an airy thing.
Joying in flowers,
Evermore wandering
In Fancy's bowers;
Living on beauteous smiles
From eyes that glisten.
And telling of Love's wiles
To ears that listen.
But if, in its first flush
Of warm emotion,
My Second come to crush
Its young devotion,
Oh! then it wastes away,
Weeping and waking,
And, on some sunny day,
Is blest in breaking!