The kindly beaming eye grow cold and strange,
The heart still warmly beat, yet not be true.
Love not, love not.
Love not, love not: oh! warning vainly said,
In present years, as in the years gone by;
Love flings a halo round the dear one’s head;
Faultless, immortal-till they change or die.
Love not, love not.
Hon. Mrs. Norton.