THE CHANGE.

She leaned out into the soft June weather,
    With her long loose tresses the night breeze played;
Her eyes were as blue as the bells on the heather:
    Oh, what is so fair as a fair young maid!

She folded her hands, like the leaves of a lily,
    "My life," she said, "is a night in June,
Fair and quiet, and calm and stilly;
    Bring me a change, oh changeful moon!

"Who would drift on a lake forever?
    Young hearts weary--it is not strange,
And sigh for the beautiful bounding river;
    New moon, true moon, bring me a change!"

The rose that rivaled her maiden blushes
    Dropped from her breast, at a stranger's feet;
Only a glance; but the hot blood rushes
    To mantle a fair face, shy and sweet.

To and fro, while the moon is waning,
    They walk, and the stars shine on above;
And one is in earnest, and one is feigning--
    Oh, what is so sweet, as a sweet young love?

A young life crushed, and a young heart broken,
    A bleak wind blows through the lovely bower,
And all that remains of the love vows spoken--
    Is the trampled leaf of a faded flower.

The night is dark, for the moon is failing--
    And what is so pale, as a pale old moon!
Cold is the wind through the tree tops wailing--
    Woe that the change should come so soon.

Poems of reflection. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Chicago, M.A. Donohue & company [c1905].


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