I say, "She was as good as fair,"
         When standing by her mound;
"Such passing sweetness," I declare,
        "No longer treads the ground."

I say, "What living Love can catch
        Her bloom and bonhomie,
And what in newer maidens match
         Her olden warmth to me!"

- There stands within yon vestry-nook
         Where bonded lovers sign,
Her name upon a faded book
         With one that is not mine.

To him she breathed the tender vow
        She once had breathed to me,
But yet I say, "O love, even now
        Would I had died for thee!"