Stanzas To Jessy.[1]

1     There is a mystic thread of life     So dearly wreath'd with mine alone,     That Destiny's relentless knife     At once must sever both, or none. 2     There is a Form on which these eyes     Have fondly gazed with such delight -     By day, that Form their joy supplies,     And Dreams restore it, through the night. 3     There is a Voice whose tones inspire     Such softened feelings in my breast,    -     I would not hear a Seraph Choir,     Unless that voice could join the rest. 4     There is a Face whose Blushes tell     Affection's tale upon the cheek,     But pallid at our fond farewell,     Proclaims more love than words can speak. 5     There is a Lip, which mine has prest,     But none had ever prest before;     It vowed to make me sweetly blest,     That mine alone should press it more. 6     There is a Bosom all my own,     Has pillow'd oft this aching head,     A Mouth which smiles on me alone,     An Eye, whose tears with mine are shed. 7     There are two Hearts whose movements thrill,     In unison so closely sweet,     That Pulse to Pulse responsive still     They Both must heave, or cease to beat. 8     There are two Souls, whose equal flow     In gentle stream so calmly run,     That when they part - they part? - ah no!     They cannot part - those Souls are One.     [GEORGE GORDON, LORD] BYRON.