Your smile I thought the worth of gold, so fair

it shone, yet lurking ‘neath was hid some rust.

The gold, the gem, I see was but some air;

to faulty things I gave my heart, my trust.

O curse my eyes so blind, that thought you worth

my tears when gone! Unable sight was mine.

You left without a care for me on earth.

The fiend you played; this I, the fool, divine.
I grasp for naught of yours, and give you now

not coppers, or that once of worth before;

my soul I deem a prize too high and vow

to put your steps behind and close the door.

Tis minds unlike that gather sores and rue

and yield unequal tidings ‘twixt the two.