The Dunce

O foolish heart, thou fragile thing,
That fluttered toward a phantom's wing,
How swift thy hope, how sweet thy fall—
To love, and be the dunce of all.

He smiled — and worlds began to bloom,
Then perished in their scented tomb.
His gaze, a sun I could not keep,
Did wake my soul, then lull to sleep.

I wore my faith like silken chains,
And kissed the thorns that bore my pains.
Each tender lie, I called it true,
And crowned my folly all for you.

Behold this cap, this paper crown,
That marks where dreams were written down.
If love be jest, then jest I must,
And turn my tears to painted dust.

Yet though I burn, I would not part
With one soft ache that warms my heart;
For better fools in love to be,
Than wise in cold indifference' sea.