The Broken Ring

It was one evening, as we stray'd alone, With hearts far fuller of deep love than joy, She from her finger took the golden zone, And placed it upon mine. The glittering toy I valued only as an unbought token Of woman's tenderness, for one who stood In the wide world as in a solitude:— Years have I kept it, but at length 'tis broken: And it is well, for all things now are changed— The past a dream, the present a dark sleep— Young hopes forgotten, and fond hearts estranged, Whilst the cold eye is all too proud to weep: Yet in my bosom, where I buried her, Thou too, false ring, shalt find a sepulchre.