sorrow to this!
the dew of the morning
sunk chill on my brow-
it felt like the warning
of what i feel now.
thy vows are all broken,
and light is thy fame:
i hear thy name spoken,
and share in its shame.
they name thee before me,
a knell to mine ear;
a shudder comes o’er me-
why wert thou so dear?
they know not i knew thee
who knew thee too well: long, long shall i rue thee,
too deeply to tell.
in secret we met-
in silence i grieve,
that thy heart could forget,
thy spirit deceive.
if i should meet thee
after ling year,
how should i greet thee?
with silence and tears.
- by george gorden byron
六年以前，东村