University of Virginia Library

PARTHIAN LOVE.

Thy figure I see in the bending grass;
Thy voice I hear in the song-sweet river:
I scent the rich flower, and sigh at thy power;
Wherever I be, thine image I see,
And flee—
Flee thee for ever, ever, ever.

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Thou hast too much grace, in thy perfect face;
Thou hast too many darts in thine armèd quiver:
The pleasure I gain is o'erpowered by pain,
So I leave thee, and grieve thee
For ever,—ever.
What is it that lies in thine orient eyes?
What's hid in thy bosom, thou dangerous giver?
Thou givest in vain or joy or pain;
I shun thy perfume, for it is my doom
To see thee, and flee thee
For ever,—ever!