A trinket made like a Heart, dear, Of red gold, bright and fine, Was given to me for a keepsake, Given to me for mine.
And another heart, warm and tender, As true as a heart could be; And every throb that stirred it Was always and all for me.
Sailing over the waters, Watching the far blue land, I dropped my golden heart, dear, Dropped it out of my hand!
It lies in the cold blue waters, Fathoms and fathoms deep, The golden heart which I promised, Promised to prize and keep.
Gazing at Life's bright visions, So false, and fair, and new, I forgot the other heart, dear, Forgot it and lost it too!
I might seek that heart for ever, I might seek and seek in vain;— And for one short, careless hour, I pay with a life of pain.
The Heart?— Yes I wore it As sign and as token Of a love that once gave it, A vow that was spoken;
But a love, and a vow, and a heart Can be broken. The Love?— Life and Death Are crushed into a day,
So what wonder that Love Should as soon pass away — What wonder I saw it Fade, fail, and decay.
The Vow?— why what was it, It snapped like a thread: Who cares for the corpse When the spirit is fled?
Then I said, “Let the Dead rise And bury its dead, “While the true, living future Grows pure, wise, and strong”
So I cast the gold heart, I had worn for so long, In the Lake, and bound on it A Stone — and a Wrong!
Look, this little golden Heart Was a true-love shrine For a tress of hair; I held them, Heart and tress, as mine,
Like the Love which gave the token See to-day the Heart is broken! Broken is the golden heart, Lost the tress of hair;
Ah, the shrine is empty, vacant, Desolate, and bare! So the token should depart, When Love dies within the heart.
Fast and deep the river floweth, Floweth to the west; I will cast the golden trinket In its cold dark breast,—
Flow, oh river, deep and fast, Over all the buried past!
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