And then I'll think of thee.

The red cock's wing may turn to grey,
The crow's to silver white,
The night itself may be for day,
And sunshine wake at night:
Till then--and then I'll prove more true
Than Nature, life, and light.

Though you may break your fondest vow,
And take your heart from me,
And though my heart should break to hear
What I may never see,
Yet never can'st thou break the link
That binds my love to thee.

So fare-thee-well, my own true love;
No vow from thee I crave,
But thee I never will forego,
Till no spark of life I have,
Nor will I ever thee forget
Till we both lie in the grave.




MARY NEELE

[Notwithstanding the company in which it is found, this poem may
safely be attributed to Clare.]