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Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton - First Love
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YES, I know that you once were my lover, 
But that sort of thing has an end, 
And though love and its transports are over, 
You know you can still be--my friend: 
I was young, too, and foolish, remember; 
(Did you ever hear John Hardy sing?) 
It was then, the fifteenth of November, 
And this is the end of the spring! 

You complain that you are not well-treated 
By my suddenly altering so; 
Can I help it?--you`re very conceited, 
If you think yourself equal to Joe. 
Don`t kneel at my feet, I implore you; 
Don`t write on the drawings you bring; 
Don`t ask me to say, "I adore you," 
For, indeed, it is now no such thing. 

I confess, when at Bognor we parted, 
I swore that I worshipped you then-- 
That I was a maid broken-hearted, 
And you the most charming of men. 
I confess, when I read your first letter, 
I blotted your name with a tear-- 
But, oh! I was young--knew no better, 
Could I tell that I`d meet Hardy here? 

How dull you are grown! how you worry, 
Repeating my vows to be true-- 
If I said so, I told you a story, 
For I love Hardy better than you! 
Yes! my fond heart has fixed on another, 
(I sigh so whenever he`s gone,) 
I shall always love you--as a brother, 
But my heart is John Hardy`s alone.
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