She Loves, but 'Tis Not Me She Loves

Nor sober Friendship stay him,
We'll drink to-night with hearts as light,
She loves, but 't is not me she loves:
To loves as gay and fleeting
Not me on whom she ponders,
As bubbles that swim on the beaker's brim,
When, in some dream of tenderness,
And break on the lips while meeting.
Her truant fancy wanders.
The forms that flit her visions through
Are like the shapes of old,