To A Lady

O! had my Fate been join'd with thine, As once this pledge appear'd a token,
These follies had not, then, been mine,
For, then, my peace had not been broken.

(...)

For once my soul, like thine, was pure,
And all its rising fires could smother;
But, now, thy vows no more endure,
Bestow'd by thee upon another.

(...)

Ah! since thy angel form is gone,
My heart no more can rest with any;
But what it sought in thee alone,
Attempts, alas! to find in many.

Then, fare thee well, deceitful Maid!
'Twere vain and fruitless to regret thee;
Nor Hope, nor Memory yield their aid, But Pride may teach me to forget thee.

(...)

If thou wert mine, had all been hush'd:---
This cheek, now pale from early riot,
With Passion's hectic ne'er had flush'd,
But bloom'd in calm domestic quiet.

Yes, once the rural Scene was sweet,
For Nature seem'd to smile before thee;
And once my Breast abhorr'd deceit,--- For then it beat but to adore thee.

But, now, I seek for other joys---
To think, would drive my soul to madness;
In thoughtless throngs, and empty noise,
I conquer half my Bosom's sadness.

Yet, even in these, a thought will steal,
In spite of every vain endeavor;
And fiends might pity what I feel---
To know that thou art lost for ever.

(c) Lord Byron via https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=vc.rux.englishpoems.free&referrer=utm_source%3Dapp%26utm_medium%3Dshare%26utm_term%3Dpoem