Classic Poem

I THOUGHT him still sincere,
I hoped he loved me yet;
My poor heart pants with harrowing fear:
O canst thou thus forget?

I gazed into his face,
And scann'd his features o'er,
And there was still each manly grace
That won my love before;

But coldly looked those eyes
Which oft had thrill'd my breast,
He was too great, too rich, too wise,
To make me his confest.

Couldst thou know what I felt
To see thee light and gay,
Thy frozen heart would warm and melt,
And weep its ice away:

Yes, I can tell of tears
These eyes for thee have shed,
In daily, nightly, hourly prayers
For blessings on thy head.

I name thee not, through shame
That truth should fade and flee:
Fear not: thy love, thy vows, thy name
Are known to none but me.

Farewell! 'tis mine to prove
Of blighted hopes the pain;
But, O believe, I ne'er can love,
As I have loved, again:

Farewell! 'tis thine to change,
Forget, be false, be free;
But know, wherever thou shalt range,
That none can love like me.