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Laurel is green for a season, and love is sweet
For a day.
And love grown bitter with treason, and laurel
Outlives not May.
Little drops of rain
Whisper of the pain
Tears of love
Lost in the days gone by.
Once, when I was young and true,
Someone left me sad -
Broke my brittle heart in two;
And that was very bad.
Love is for unlucky folk,
Love is but a curse.
Once there was a heart I broke;
And that, I think, is worse.
I don't wish to imply
that there aren't good
things about you
or that you're not
an extraordinary person
but I'd rather
let other people
enjoy the surprise
Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go, -- so with his memory they brim.
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his boot or shone his face
I say, "There is no memory of him here!"
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.
It's not love's going hurts my days,
But that it went in little ways.
After all my erstwhile dear, my no longer cherished;
Need we say it was not love, just because it perished?
If you said good-bye to me tonight,
There would still be music left to write.
I shall go the way of the open sea,
To the lands I knew before you came,
And the cool ocean breezes shall blow from me
The memory of your name.
When you're away, I'm restless, lonely,
Wretched, bored, dejected; only
Here's the rub, my darling dear,
I feel the same when you are here.