YES, I know that you once were my lover, <br />But that sort of thing has an end, <br />And though love and its transports are over, <br />You know you can still be--my friend: <br />I was young, too, and foolish, remember; <br />(Did you ever hear John Hardy sing?) <br />It was then, the fifteenth of November, <br />And this is the end of the spring! <br /> <br />You complain that you are not well-treated <br />By my suddenly altering so; <br />Can I help it?--you're very conceited, <br />If you think yourself equal to Joe. <br />Don't kneel at my feet, I implore you; <br />Don't write on the drawings you bring; <br />Don't ask me to say, 'I adore you,' <br />For, indeed, it is now no such thing. <br /> <br />I confess, when at Bognor we parted, <br />I swore that I worshipped you then-- <br />That I was a maid broken-hearted, <br />And you the most charming of men. <br />I confess, when I read your first letter, <br />I blotted your name with a tear-- <br />But, oh! I was young--knew no better, <br />Could I tell that I'd meet Hardy here? <br /> <br />How dull you are grown! how you worry, <br />Repeating my vows to be true-- <br />If I said so, I told you a story, <br />For I love Hardy better than you! <br />Yes! my fond heart has fixed on another, <br />(I sigh so whenever he's gone,) <br />I shall always love you--as a brother, <br />But my heart is John Hardy's alone.<br /><br />Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/first-love-99/
