Given by thee;
Weep, weep for the past, with its moments of bliss,
Once shared by me.
Weep, weep for the sinless, who cast her heart’s pearl
On love’s purest shrine;
Thine, thine was the altar upon which it lay—
The offering was mine.
Smile, smile for the transplanted flower that blooms—
It blooms not for thee;
There’s death in the poisonous incense it breathes—