The Blight of Love
Many long years ago, I loved a youth,
Who seemed the soul of honor and of truth —
He charmed my heart with some unholy spell,
He was a serpent, whom I loved so well.
The blush of girlhood had just ting'd my cheek;
He knew me young — perchance he thought me weak.
'Tis said, he often boasted of his power,
To gather for his own each new-blown flower.
My simple language can not well describe
How first he stood before me in his pride;
His form was cast in beauty's manly mould;
His eyes shot fire, and his hair was gold.
Who seemed the soul of honor and of truth —
He charmed my heart with some unholy spell,
He was a serpent, whom I loved so well.
The blush of girlhood had just ting'd my cheek;
He knew me young — perchance he thought me weak.
'Tis said, he often boasted of his power,
To gather for his own each new-blown flower.
My simple language can not well describe
How first he stood before me in his pride;
His form was cast in beauty's manly mould;
His eyes shot fire, and his hair was gold.
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