Thinking again of you in haughty pride,

That you and I in love were once entwined—

Yet of that bond now severed, I deride

The faithless heart another has purloined.

Whatever was seems better not to be,

More like a tarnished trinket stripped of shine,

A tawdry trifle I shan’t care to see

Adorn in pleasure, any cloak of mine.

Yet of that bauble that was once our love,

From time to time I shall reflect thereon—

That gilt may dull upon the lightest rub

And gold proved false, ere it was even worn.

So when considering this, I say forsooth:

The thinnest gloss can hide the darkest truth.