Poems (Osgood)/The Parting

For works with similar titles, see The Parting.

​

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.
I pined but one moment that form to enfold, Yet the hand that touch'd hers like the marble was cold.— ​I heard her voice falter a timid farewell, Nor trembled, tho' soft on my spirit it fell, And she knew not—she dream'd not the anguish of soul Which only my pity for her could control.
It is over,—the loveliest dream of delight That ever illumined a wanderer's night! Yet one gleam of comfort will brighten my way, Tho' mournful and desolate ever I stray: It is this, that to her—my idol, I spared The pang, that her love could have soften'd and shared!

This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.