Euphrenia or the Test of Love A poem by William Sharp |
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 | Euphrenia or the Test of Love |  |
61
XII.
Why should we trace the death of love,As slowly it declines,
The soul's sad sickness under which
Misguided woman pines;
When, love's illusion o'er, she finds
That she has yielded all
To one whose false and tinsel flame
Has scarce survived her fall?
Why wonder that the dastard blow,
Which hurls her from her throne,
Should turn her honey into gall,
Her heart to hardest stone?
| Euphrenia or the Test of Love | |