Though they say Jove laughs at the lover’s vow—
At the lover’s vow that must break some day—
Still we smiled as we loved in a distant May
When the blooms were heavy upon the bough.
O, the mocking difference of then and now!
It isn’t a thought that will make one gay,
Though they say Jove laughs at the lover’s vow—
At the lover’s vow that must break some day.
Yet, perhaps, the god knows the best way how
To carry a mask when the feet are clay;
So I too shall laugh at the merry play,
For down in his heart there’s a knife, I trow,
Though they say Jove laughs at the lover’s vow.