Thou didst not tell me that the glow Of passionate desire would go That every ?ower from Evil's root Must fade to leave a bitter fruit That as into a rainy night The hues of sundown die, So Sin is melting when most bright; And I have reaped the due of Right, Nor wept the tears of Wrong, in Spite Of thy gay sophistry. Nor didst thou warn me till too late That I must arm to meet the Fate Which levels low and lofty things, And bids young Love unfurl his wings, And varies failure with success To disappoint the more. Unguided could I ever guess The avenues to happiness? I might have wandered to distress Thro' many an open door.