She could give to him no more,—
Oh! daughter of the poor man,
Soon thy dream of bliss was o’er!
’Twere vain to tell the story
Of fear, hope, and joyous passion;
She forgot her father’s station,
He forsook the halls of fashion;
She loved him well—he knew it,—
’Twas a pleasing interlude,
Fitting to enjoy more keenly