Part 4 — I’LL BLAME THEE NOT.

———

BY J. A. TINNON.

———

I’ll blame thee not—for I can love,

Another eye as bright as thine,

A form as fair, and ne’er regret,

This worship at a faithless shrine.

I’ll blame thee not—love fond and true

May still be won in beauty’s bowers,

Though I may never dare again,

To wear a wreath of fading flowers.

I’ll blame thee not—for thoughts of love

And thee no more my bosom fill;

And of that dream there lingers scarce

One trace of its deep burning thrill.

I’ll blame thee not—I smile to see

The golden vision pass away,

When its bright tints a mask have been

To hide a heart of common clay.

I’ll blame thee not—for I, perchance,

May learn the trick of gladness well,

And none shall mark upon my brow

A trace of joy or pain to tell.

I’ll blame thee not—for I will care

No more to bind a restive heart,

Though every joy my life can know

Should with its passion-dream depart.