Lines by a Person of Quality

The loves that doubted, the loves that dissembled,
That still mistrusted themselves and trembled,
That held back their hands and would not touch;
Who strained sad eyes to look more nearly,
And saw too curiously and clearly
What others blindly clutch;

To whom their passion seemed only seeming,
Who dozed and dreamed they were only dreaming,
And fell in a dusk of dreams on sleep;
When dreams and darkness are rent asunder,
And morn makes mock of their doubts and wonder,
What should they do but weep?