Alexander Smith (1830–1867)

I WROTE a name upon the river sands

With her who bore it standing by my side,

Her large dark eyes lit up with gentle pride,

And leaning on my arm with claspéd hands;

To burning words of mine she thus replied,

“Nay, write not on thy heart. This tablet frail

Fitteth as frail a vow. Fantastic bands

Will scarce confine these limbs.” I turned love-pale,

I gazed upon the rivered landscape wide,

And thought how little it would all avail

Without her love. ’T was on a morn of May,

Within a month I stood upon the sand;

Gone was the name I traced with trembling hand,—

And from my heart ’t was also gone away.