Will she return, my lady? Nay:
Love’s feet, that once have learned to stray,
Turn never to the olden way.
Ah, heart of mine, where lingers she?
By what live stream or saddened sea?
What wild-flowered swath of sungilt lea
Do her feet press, and are her days
Sweet with new stress of love and praise,
Or sad with echoes of old lays?
John Payne (Light o’ Love).