Maiden, that with sullen brow <br />Sitt'st behind those virgins gay, <br />Like a scorched and mildew'd bough, <br />Leafless mid the blooms of May. <br /> <br />Him who lured thee and forsook, <br />Oft I watch'd with angry gaze, <br />Fearful saw his pleading look, <br />Anxious heard his fervid phrase. <br /> <br />Soft the glances of the youth, <br />Soft his speech, and soft his sigh; <br />But no sound like simple truth, <br />But no true love in his eye. <br /> <br />Loathing thy polluted lot, <br />Hie thee, maiden, hie thee hence! <br />Seek thy weeping mother's cot, <br />With a wiser innocence. <br /> <br />Thou hast known deceit and folly, <br />Thou hast felt that vice is woe; <br />With a musing melancholy, <br />Inly armed, go, maiden! go. <br /> <br />Mother, sage of self dominion, <br />Firm thy steps, O melancholy! <br />The strongest plume in wisdom's pinion <br />Is the memory of past folly. <br /> <br />Mute the sky-lark and forlorn <br />While she moults the firstling plumes, <br />That had skimm'd the tender corn, <br />Or the bean-field's odorous blooms. <br /> <br />Soon with renovated wing, <br />Shall she dare a loftier flight, <br />Upward to the day-star spring, <br />And embathe in heavenly light.<br /><br />Samuel Taylor Coleridge<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-an-unfortunate-woman-at-the-theatre/
