STILL do the stars impart their light To those that travel in the night; Still time runs on, nor doth the hand Or shadow on the dial stand; The streams still glide and constant are:       Only thy mind       Untrue I find,       Which carelessly       Neglects to be Like stream or shadow, hand or star.

Fool that I am! I do recall My words, and swear thou'rt like them all, Thou seem'st like stars to nourish fire, But O how cold is thy desire! And like the hand upon the brass       Thou point'st at me       In mockery;       If I come nigh       Shade-like thou'lt fly, And as the stream with murmur pass.