In Bygone Days
G. Chadwick
In bygone days I wrote with zealous care
A passing fancy sweet by visions wrought,
'Twas of a maiden pure and woundrous fair,
'Twas but a thought, 'twas but a thought.
In after days when Fortune chancing true,
This beauteous maiden I beheld unsought;
I loved her well and thought she loved me too,
'Twas but a thought, 'twas but a thought.