Lyrical Poems
115. THE CRUEL MAID

Robert Her

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—AND, cruel maid, because I see

You scornful of my love, and me,

I'll trouble you no more, but go

My way, where you shall never know

What is become of me; there I

Will find me out a path to die,

Or learn some way how to forget

You and your name for ever;—yet

Ere I go hence, know this from me,

What will in time your fortune be;

This to your coyness I will tell;

And having spoke it once, Farewell.

—The lily will not long endure,

Nor the snow continue pure;

The rose, the violet, one day

See both these lady-flowers decay;

And you must fade as well as they.

And it may chance that love may turn,

And, like to mine, make your heart burn

And weep to see't; yet this thing do,

That my last vow commends to you;

When you shall see that I am dead,

For pity let a tear be shed;

And, with your mantle o'er me cast,

Give my cold lips a kiss at last;

If twice you kiss, you need not fear

That I shall stir or live more here.

Next hollow out a tomb to cover

Me, me, the most despised lover;

And write thereon, THIS, READER, KNOW;

LOVE KILL'D THIS MAN. No more, but so.

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