Did I mistake this for that lovely thing

That draws some hearts to stir and to forgive;

That perfect tune the birds in springtime sing;

A lullaby that mothers ne'er outlive?

Do I within let go of all the past

That lingers where my heartstrings bear his name;

That grew me up, that made his childhood last,

That brought his lips to swear of love, aflame?

Must I still speak those words that play pretend;

That lie and steal, that hide and seek him there;

That keep him where he wants to live and end,

And hold him to a promise I don't share?

I, just a girl who knows where this will end.

He, just a boy whose love will never bend.