To Conopion
O Cruel, cruel! As I lie
Upon this ice-cold stone,
So may you sleep whose lovers sigh
In misery alone —
The very neighbours grieve to see
How here I wait in agony.
So may you sleep! Within your heart
No shade of pity lives;
Your pride in mercy has no part,
To love no kindness gives.
Soon will the grey hairs come — and they
Perchance will make you rue this day.
Upon this ice-cold stone,
So may you sleep whose lovers sigh
In misery alone —
The very neighbours grieve to see
How here I wait in agony.
So may you sleep! Within your heart
No shade of pity lives;
Your pride in mercy has no part,
To love no kindness gives.
Soon will the grey hairs come — and they
Perchance will make you rue this day.
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