by Eliza Acton
Take back thy ring!-for I have learn'd
To hear thy name with hopeless heart,
And oft, with sick'ning soul, have turn'd
From what thou wert,-to what thou art!
I will not wear a pledge from one
Whose love is mock'ry like to thine;
I'd rather live uncheer'd, and lone,
As flowers, o'er which no sun-rays shine!
I know that thou wilt falsely say,
I shrink before misfortune's night;
That I can coldly turn away,
And leave thee to its withering blight.
Thou wilt believe it not!-too well
Past years of deep devotedness,
The fonder-truer-tale will tell
Of my soul's changeless tenderness-
And aught but this I could have borne-
To know thee vile Dishonour's slave;
The finger-mark of shame and scorn,
Th' oppressor of the pure, and brave.
But never shall my fate be twin'd
With that of one, whose fame is blasted;
Whose word is as the idle wind;
Whose days in servile guilt are wasted !
Last updated January 14, 2019