UNDESIRED REVENGE

Sorrow and sin have worked their will For years upon your sovereign face, And yet it keeps a faded trace Of its unequalled beauty still, As ruined sanctuaries hold A crumbled trace of perfect mould In shrines which saints no longer fill.

I knew you in your splendid morn, Oh, how imperiously sweet! I bowed and worshipped at your feet, And you received my love with scorn. Now I scorn you. It is a change, When I consider it, how strange That you, not I, should be forlorn.

Do you suppose I have no pain To see you play this sorry part, With faded face and broken heart, And life lived utterly in vain? Oh would to God that you once more Might scorn me as you did of yore, And I might worship you again!