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...MODULATIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPRING'S NEBRASKA by KAREN SWENSON |