THINK NOT OF ME, POOR PAGE.
I
My page, look not wistfully
Upon thy lady's cheek,
For she can read in thy moist eye
The grief thou fain wouldst speak.
Thy kindness but augments the pain
It offers to assuage;
Go, seek thy sunny sports again,
Think not of me, poor page.
II
My sadness will but make thee weep;
Thou'lt win no smile from me;
So young a plant 'twere sin to keep
Beneath woe's poison tree.
I love thee, but I send thee forth
A captive from the cage.
I have no other friend on earth,
But heed not that, poor page.
III
And thou dost weep, remembering
How gay I us'd to be;
Weep not, for nothing now can bring
A sadder change to me.
Bow'd down in youth, I do not fear
The darkest frowns of age.
Go hence, I cannot shed a tear;
Think not of me, poor page.
