No, Fanny, no, it may not be!
Though parting break my heart in twain,
This hour I go, by many a sea
Divided--ne’er we meet again.
I love thee; and that look of thine,
That tear upon thy pallid cheek,
Assures me that I now resign
What long it was my joy to seek.
Oh! once it was my happiest dream,
My only hope, my fondest prayer;
’Tis gone, and like a meteor beam
Hath past, and left me to despair.
Yet may you still of joy partake,
Nor find like me those hopes decay,
Which ever, like a desert lake,
Attract the sight to fade away.
I could not brook to see that eye,
So full of life, so radiant now,
I could not see its lustre die,
And time’s cold hand deface thy brow--
And death will come, or soon or late,
(I could not brook to know that hour,)
But, if I do not learn thy fate,
I’ll think thou ne’er canst feel his pow’r.
Yes! I will fly! though years may roll,
And other thoughts may love estrange,
’Twill give some pleasure to my soul
To know I cannot see thee change.
Then fare thee well, death cannot bring
One hour of anguish more to me;
Since I have felt the only sting
He e’er could give, in leaving thee.