WITHDRAW not yet those lips and fingers Whose touch to mine is rapture's spell; Life's joy for us a moment lingers, And death seems in the word -- Farewell The hour that bids us part and go, It sounds not yet, -- oh! no, no, no! Time, whilst I gaze upon thy sweetness, Flies like a courser nigh the goal; To-morrow where shall be his fleetness, When thou art parted from my soul? Our hearts shall beat, our tears shall flow, But not together, -- no, no, no! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MASK by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING SONNET TO LAKE LEMAN by GEORGE GORDON BYRON TO AN ISLE IN THE WATER by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH: BOOK 2. RUSTIC INTERIOR by JOHN ARMSTRONG EPIGRAM by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS |