 | Poems By Jean Ingelow: Third Series |  |
217
II
The gear is gone, the red gold spent,
Favour and beauty with them went,
Eyes take the veil, their shining done,
Not fair to him is fair to none,
Sweet as a bee's bag 'twas to taste
His praise. O honey run to waste,
He loved not! spoiled is all my way
In the spoiling of that yesterday.
Favour and beauty with them went,
Eyes take the veil, their shining done,
Not fair to him is fair to none,
Sweet as a bee's bag 'twas to taste
His praise. O honey run to waste,
He loved not! spoiled is all my way
In the spoiling of that yesterday.
The shadows wax, the low light alters,
Gold west fades, and false heart falters.
The pity of it!—Love's a rover,
The last word said, and all over.
Gold west fades, and false heart falters.
The pity of it!—Love's a rover,
The last word said, and all over.
| Poems By Jean Ingelow: Third Series | |