Has summer come without the rose, 
Or left the bird behind? 
Is the blue changed above thee, 
O world! or am I blind? 
Will you change every flower that grows, 
Or only change this spot, 
Where she who said, I love thee, 
Now says, I love thee not?

The skies seemed true above thee, 
The rose true on the tree; 
The bird seemed true the summer through, 
But all proved false to me.