Grown and Flown Christina Rossetti

I loved my love from green of Spring
         Until sere Autumn's fall;
But now that leaves are withering
         How should one love at all?
         One heart's too small
For hunger, cold, love, everything.

I loved my love on sunny days
        Until late Summer's wane;
But now that frost begins to glaze
         How should one love again?
         Nay, love and pain
Walk wide apart in diverse ways.

I loved my love,--alas to see
         That this should be, alas!
I thought that this could scarcely be,
         Yet has it come to pass:
         Sweet sweet love was,
Now bitter bitter grown to me.