641. To Helene On a Gift-ring carelessly lost

I SENT a ring—a little band
Of emerald and ruby stone,
And bade it, sparkling on thy hand,
Tell thee sweet tales of one
Whose constant memory	5
Was full of loveliness, and thee.

A shell was graven on its gold,—
‘Twas Cupid fix’d without his wings—
To Helene once it would have told
More than was ever told by rings:	10
But now all ‘s past and gone,
Her love is buried with that stone.

Thou shalt not see the tears that start
From eyes by thoughts like these beguiled;
Thou shalt not know the beating heart,	15
Ever a victim and a child:
Yet Helene, love, believe
The heart that never could deceive.

I’ll hear thy voice of melody
In the sweet whispers of the air;	20
I’ll see the brightness of thine eye
In the blue evening’s dewy star;
In crystal streams thy purity;
And look on Heaven to look on thee.