Still do the stars impart their light   
To those that travel in the night;   
Still time runs on, nor doth the hand   
Or shadow on the dial stand;   
The streams still glide and constant are:
      Only thy mind   
      Untrue I find,   
      Which carelessly   
      Neglects to be   
Like stream or shadow, hand or star.
  
Fool that I am! I do recall   
My words, and swear thou'rt like them all,   
Thou seem'st like stars to nourish fire,   
But O how cold is thy desire!   
And like the hand upon the brass
      Thou point'st at me   
      In mockery;   
      If I come nigh   
      Shade-like thou'lt fly,   
And as the stream with murmur pass.