TREACHERY
Reading edition
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?