SONGS FOR THE SENTIMENTAL.—No. 14.
Oft have I fondly heard thee pour
Love’s incense in mine ear!
Oft bade thy lips repeat once more
The words I deemed sincere!
But—though the truth this heart may break—
I know thee false “and no mistake!”
My fancy pictured to my heart
Thy boasted passion, pure;
Dreamed thy affection, void of art,
For ever would endure.
Alas! in vain my woe I smother!
I find thee very much “more t’other!”
’Twas sweet to hear you sing of love,
But, when you talk of gold,
Your sordid, base design you prove,
And—for it must be told—
Since from my soul the truth you drag—
“You let the cat out of the bag!”