I mark'd a gem of pearly dew,|
While wand'ring near yon misty mountain,
Which bore the tender flow'r so low,
It dropp'd it off into the fountain.
So thou hast wrung this gentle heart,
Which in its core was proud to wear thee,
Till drooping sick beneath thy art,
It sighing found it could not bear thee.
2. Adieu, thou faithless fair! unkind!|
Thy falsehood dooms that we must sever;
Thy vows were as the passing wind,
That fans the flow'r, then dies for ever.
And think not that this gentle heart,
Though in its core 'twas proud to wear thee,
Shall longer droop beneath thy art ;--
No, cruel fair, it cannot bear thee.
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