Poetry Archives

Do not, O do not use me
  As you have used others.
Better you did refuse me:
  You have refused others.
Better, far better hope to banish
A small child than, grown old,
Hope should decay, his vigour vanish,
  And I be left alone and
        Cold, cold.

Ah, use no guile nor cunning
  If you should even yet love me.
Hark, Time with Love is running,
  Death cloud-like floats above me.
Love me with such simplicity
As children, frankly bold,
Do love with; oh, never pity me,
  Though I be left alone and
        Cold, cold.