She's bid adieu to the midnight ball,
And cast the gems aside,
Which glittered in the lighted hall:
Her tears she cannot hide.
She weeps not that the dance is o'er,
The music and the song;
She weeps not that her steps no more
Are follow'd by the throng.
Her memory seeks one form alone
Within that crowded hall;
Her truant thoughts but dwell on one
At that gay midnight ball.
And thence her tears unbidden flow--
She's bid adieu to him;
The light of love is darken'd now--
All other lights are dim.
She throws the worthless wreath away
That deck'd her shining hair;
She tears apart the bright bouquet
Of flowrets rich and rare.
The leaves lie scattered at her feet,
She heeds not where they fall;
She sees in them an emblem meet
To mark the midnight-ball.