Who erred through blind devotion,
Could ne’er regain her home and friends,
Nor could a lifetime make amends,
Nor dull the pang her bosom rends;
She’d die and end emotion.
She seeks the brook that once she loved,
By stealth in twilight hour,
And, musing on that peaceful scene,
She sadly thought “what might have been,”
Had traitors love, with gilded mien,