The Inconsistent

 I say, "She was as good as fair," 
 When standing by her mound; 
"Such passing sweetness," I declare, 
 "No longer treads the ground.
" 
I say, "What living Love can catch 
 Her bloom and bonhomie, 
And what in newer maidens match 
 Her olden warmth to me!" 

- There stands within yon vestry-nook 
 Where bonded lovers sign, 
Her name upon a faded book 
 With one that is not mine.
 
To him she breathed the tender vow 
 She once had breathed to me, 
But yet I say, "O love, even now 
 Would I had died for thee!"

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