Love is like the moon; when it does not increase, it decreases.
1175
FORGET THEE?
Behold the sun forget to shine,
The brightest star to twinkle,
The ivy round the oak to twine,
The tearful heart to sprinkle
The sod that wraps affection's grave,
The never silent surging sea
The sandy shore to lash and lave—
Then think that I'll forget thee.
—Winfred.
1176
THE MAIDEN IN LOVE.
Sweet mother, I can spin no more to-day,
And all for a youth who has stolen my heart away.
—Sappho, 600 B. C.
—Translated by Appleton.