Who have loved and ceased to love, forget <br />That ever they loved in their lives, they say; <br />Only remember the fever and fret, <br />And the pain of Love, that was all his pay; <br />All the delight of him passes away <br />From hearts that hoped, and from lips that met - <br />Too late did I love you, my love, and yet <br />I shall never forget till my dying day. <br /> <br />Too late were we 'ware of the secret net <br />That meshes the feet in the flowers that stray; <br />There were we taken and snared, Lisette, <br />In the dungeon of La Fausse Amistie; <br />Help was there none in the wide world's fray, <br />Joy was there none in the gift and the debt; <br />Too late we knew it, too long regret - <br />I shall never forget till my dying day! <br /> <br />We must live our lives, though the sun be set, <br />Must meet in the masque where parts we play, <br />Must cross in the maze of Life's minuet; <br />Our yea is yea, and our nay is nay: <br />But while snows of winter or flowers of May <br />Are the sad year's shroud or coronet, <br />In the season of rose or of violet, <br />I shall never forget till my dying day! <br /> <br />ENVOY. <br /> <br />Queen, when the clay is my coverlet, <br />When I am dead, and when you are grey, <br />Vow, where the grass of the grave is wet, <br />'I shall never forget till my dying day!'<br /><br />Andrew Lang<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ballade-of-blind-love/
