Treachery

________________________________________________
Title:     Treachery
Author: Walter De la Mare [More Titles by De la Mare]

She had amid her ringlets bound
Green leaves to rival their dark hue;
How could such locks with beauty bound
Dry up their dew,
Wither them through and through?

She had within her dark eyes lit
Sweet fires to burn all doubt away;
Yet did those fires, in darkness lit,
Burn but a day,
Not even till twilight stay.

She had within a dusk of words
A vow in simple splendour set;
How, in the memory of such words,
Could she forget
That vow--the soul of it?

[The end]
Walter De la Mare's poem: Treachery

________________________________________________



GO TO TOP OF SCREEN