When beauty breaks and falls asunder 
I feel no grief for it, but wonder. 
When love, like a frail shell, lies broken, 
I keep no chip of it for token. 
I never had a man for friend 
Who did not know that love must end. 
I never had a girl for lover 
Who could discern when love was over. 
What the wise doubt, the fool believes 
Who is it, then, that love deceives?