Say what is that heart that can promise its faith
And its love all to one till it withers in death,
That at noon can forget the warm vows of the morn,
And at evening, O strange! be freezing with scorn.
That in moments of rapture when Fortune does shine,
Will smile oer its object and call it divine;
That in moments of rapture when Fortune does shine,
Will smile oer its object and call it divine;
And when clouds gather ošer will leave it to die,
With a sneer of the lip
And the scowl of an eye.
And yet is not that one of feeling more strange,
Whose love leaves an object that nothing can change;
All tired and sated as the rose finds its doom,
In the very same sunshine that gave it its bloom.
They are clouds in the sky, as false as theyre bright;
Formd but for one min ite to live in the light,
They are clouds in the sky, as false as theyre bright,
Formd but for one minute to live in the light,
Whose bright fairy hues are changing forever,
Then such could I take to my bosom? O never!
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