Parliamentary Letters, and Other Poems By Q. in the Corner [i.e. N. T. H. Bayly] |
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[We parted,—yet I never heard] |
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 | Parliamentary Letters, and Other Poems |  |
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[We parted,—yet I never heard]
We parted,—yet I never heard
Her lips repeat a last adieu;
We parted,—yet no soothing word
Assured me she would still be true:
And when I left my Anna's side,
I only felt that gentle sorrow
Which lovers feel, who but divide
To meet again in joy to-morrow.
Her lips repeat a last adieu;
We parted,—yet no soothing word
Assured me she would still be true:
And when I left my Anna's side,
I only felt that gentle sorrow
Which lovers feel, who but divide
To meet again in joy to-morrow.
Oh! who that from a friend must sever
For long—long years,—perhaps for ever,
Would wish to fly without possessing
A parting look, a parting blessing?
Though in that moment are combined
All that can agonize the mind;
Though lips cannot express their woe,
Though tears may then refuse to flow;
For long—long years,—perhaps for ever,
Would wish to fly without possessing
A parting look, a parting blessing?
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All that can agonize the mind;
Though lips cannot express their woe,
Though tears may then refuse to flow;
Though anguish, not to be exprest,
Nearly o'erwhelms the throbbing breast;
Yet when the trying hour is o'er,
And friendly forms are seen no more;
When one fond look in vain is sought,
There's consolation in the thought
That the last word, the parting sigh,
Recorded their fidelity.
Nearly o'erwhelms the throbbing breast;
Yet when the trying hour is o'er,
And friendly forms are seen no more;
When one fond look in vain is sought,
There's consolation in the thought
That the last word, the parting sigh,
Recorded their fidelity.
How precious to my heart had been
The memory of such a scene;
The silent pressure of the hand,
Which friends so well can understand;
The fond, intelligible touch,
Which to a lover says so much;
The words, the looks,—which, though they fill
Our eyes with tears,—are comforts still.
The memory of such a scene;
The silent pressure of the hand,
Which friends so well can understand;
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Which to a lover says so much;
The words, the looks,—which, though they fill
Our eyes with tears,—are comforts still.
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