The Silken Tassel/A Complaint

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A Complaint
Hast thou forgotten me, Belovèd mine?
  Hast thou forgotten me?
Hast thou forgotten me, Belovèd mine?
  Hast thou forgotten me?

These words do haunt my lonely day and night,
  And sing into my ears:
Each morn I rise in hopes of deep delight,
  And wipe my dream-sent tears!

But no my morn comes pale as pale despair
  And throbs my heart in vain:
Red evening robs my patience, and I share.
  My dreams of night again.

Is there no word for me within thy heart?
  No pity for my lot?
Does there no place or thing to thee impart
  Of me a brief fond thought?

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