Heave not one sigh, but leave me;
Those studied looks, that feigned regret,
Can nevermore deceive me.
The faltering tones that mock me so,
Betray the fears that move thee;
Cease to degrade thy manhood.—Go!
I scorn thee while I love thee.
Shall I forget the rapturous hours
Of my too radiant morning—
The hand that culled the dewy flowers