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the parting.
For thee we twine;—for who could so gracefully
As she, whose heart is lovely and pure as the rose;
The wreath is thine, and the happiness each of us share it,
For thou art so meek no envy can mar thy repose.
As she, whose heart is lovely and pure as the rose;
The wreath is thine, and the happiness each of us share it,
For thou art so meek no envy can mar thy repose.
THE PARTING.
I look'd not—I sigh'd not—I dared not betray
The wild storm of feeling that strove to have way,
For I knew that each sign of the sorrow I felt
Her soul to fresh pity and passion would melt,
And calm was my voice, and averted my eyes,
As I parted from all that in being I prize.
The wild storm of feeling that strove to have way,
For I knew that each sign of the sorrow I felt
Her soul to fresh pity and passion would melt,
And calm was my voice, and averted my eyes,
As I parted from all that in being I prize.
I pined but one moment that form to enfold,
Yet the hand that touch'd hers like the marble was cold.—
Yet the hand that touch'd hers like the marble was cold.—
