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Sorrow to this!

The dew of the morning

Sunk chill on my brow-

It felt like the warning

Of what I feel now.

Thy vows are all broken,

And light is thy fame:

I hear thy name spoken,

And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,

A knell to mine ear;

A shudder comes o’er me-

Why wert thou so dear?

They know not I knew thee

Who knew thee too well: long, long shall I rue thee,

Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met-

In silence I grieve,

That thy heart could forget,

Thy spirit deceive.

If I should meet thee

After ling year,

How should I greet thee?

With silence and tears.

- by George Gorden Byron

六年以前，东村