Poems (Campbell)/To Charlotte

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TO CHARLOTTE.
I took thee, faithless! to my breast;
And as a sweet and welcome guest
I lodged thee in my inmost heart,
And held thee as its dearest part.

But hence, thou fickle girl, away!
No more that faithful heart betray;
Go, find a bosom like thy own—
A haughty mind, a heart of stone.

For, ah! to banish my repose,
Thy winning friendship sweetly rose,
With gentle looks, and manners free,
That won my purest love to thee.

But, Charlotte! since I'm once deceiv'd,
Since friendship feign'd this heart has griev'd,
I scorn thy falsehood to deplore,—
Proud girl! I'll never love thee more.

Yet think not that without a tear
I banish'd all my love sincere,
Or thought that thou wert false to me—
But—this is my last sigh for thee.

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