Caroline Norton

The Cold Change

IN the cold change which time hath wrought on love
    (The snowy winter of his summer prime), 
Should a chance sigh or sudden tear-drop move
    Thy heart to memory of the olden time; 
Turn not to gaze on me with pitying eyes,
    Nor mock me with a withered hope renewed; 
But from the bower we both have loved, arise
    And leave me to my barren solitude!

What boots it that a momentary flame
    Shoots from the ashes of a dying fire? 
We gaze upon the hearth from whence it came,
    And know the exhausted embers must expire: 
Therefore no pity, or my heart will break;
Be cold, be careless -- for thy past love's sake!