Ophelia's Note (Poetry)

Your ardour has grown cool, my fickle lord,
I looked to you expecting a sweet word
Or smile — one hint — a small but telling token
Of feeling, but your heart is like the ocean —
Dark tides run, fathoms deep, thoughts ebb and flow
As I watch you, from a distance, come and go.

I walk alone on Love’s abandoned shore —
Was I some passing fancy, nothing more ?
Now you’d make of me a nun — what callous jest
When not long ago, quite tender at my breast,
You whispered words of quite a different kind,
Yet since, your cruelty wrecks my muddled mind...

I leave to you this sprig of rosemary
Plucked wild as some rememberance of me,
Our future hopes unhatched — my brain’s a nest of bones —
The sly river offers quick its bed of stones...
’Twill suck me down to join those you have slain.
Farewell, my prince — I’ve had my fill of pain!