THE COQUETTE’S VOW.

———

BY FRANCES S. OSGOOD.

———

I promise while I love you,

To love you true and well;

But, by that cloud above you,

How long—I dare not tell.

I promise to be tender,

And docile to your sway;

I promise to surrender

My soul—at least—a day.

But if—but if—to-morrow

I chance to grow more wise—

If Love should dream you borrow

Your light from Fancy’s eyes;

If I should weary, playing

On one eternal lyre,

And touch, with fingers straying,

Some other chords of fire;

If they should answer willing,

In sweeter tones than you,

Forgive my heart for thrilling,

And own my ear is true.

You have the same permission

To tire, to change, to go,

With only one condition—

That you will let me know.

Then chide me not for changing

When I’ve gone through the book,

But chide the bee for ranging,

And chide the sportive brook.

When through the dark cloud smiling

The sunbeam wandered warm,

A rainbow came, beguiling

To beauty all the storm.

But if when light was banished

By cold, unwelcome rain,

That rare guest paled and vanished,

Oh! could the cloud complain?

A wild bee found a rose

And nestled in its heart,

But when its leaflets close

The flutterer fain would part.

Air, freedom, light and heaven

It would not so resign;

Then if those leaves be riven,

Ah! should the rose repine?

Since round your being real

My fancy deigns to fly,

Keep up to my Ideal,

Or you are false—not I.

Yet though unlike most lovers,

I vow at once to change

If fancy e’er discovers

A nobler field to range.

Of this at least be sure,

That even when I go

I’ll probably be truer

Than some who swear they’re so.

And though less true than truant,

I shall not fall in love;

But of some star pursuant,

Still rise to light above.

Then, since around your Real

My Fancy deigns to fly,

Keep up to my Ideal,

Or you are false as I.