Poetry Archives

Still do the stars impart their light
To those that travel in the night;
Still time runs on, nor doth the hand
Or shadow on the dial stand;
The streams still glide and constant are:
      Only thy mind
      Untrue I find,
      Which carelessly
      Neglects to be
Like stream or shadow, hand or star.

Fool that I am! I do recall
My words, and swear thou’rt like them all,
Thou seem’st like stars to nourish fire,
But O how cold is thy desire!
And like the hand upon the brass
      Thou point’st at me
      In mockery;
      If I come nigh
      Shade-like thou’lt fly,
And as the stream with murmur pass.