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ADIEU! A long, a long adieu !
I must be gone while yet I may.
Oft shall I weep to think of you;
But here I will not, cannot stay.
The sweet expression of that face,
For ever changing, yet the same,
no, I dare not turn to trace.
It melts my soul, it fires my frame !
Yet give me, give me, ere
go, One little lock of those so blest, That lend your cheek a warmer glow, And on your white neck love to rest.
-Say, when, to kindle soft delight,
That hand has chanced with mine to meet,
How could its thrilling touch excite
A sigh so short, and yet so sweet?
O say—but no, it must not be.
Adieu! A long, a long adieu !
-Yet still, methinks, you frown on me;
Or never could I fly from you.
Go-you may call it madness, folly; You shall not chase my gloom away. There's such a charm in melancholy, I would not, if I could, be gay.
Oh, if you knew the pensive pleasure That fills my bosom when I sigh, You would not rob me of a treasure Monarchs are too poor to buy.
While on the cliff with calm delight she kneels
And the blue vales a thousand joys recall,
See, to the last, last verge her infant steals !
O fly—yet stir not, speak not, lest it fall.
Far better taught, she lays her bosom bare, And the fond boy springs back to nestle there.
There is a streamlet issuing from a rock.
The village-girls, singing wild madrigals,
Dip their white vestments in its waters clear,
And hang them to the sun.
There first we met,
There on that day. Her dark and eloquent eyes
'Twas heaven to look upon; and her sweet voice,
As tuneable as harp of many strings,
At once spoke joy and sadness to my soul !
Dear is that valley to the murmuring bees;
And all, who know it, come and come again.
The small birds build there; and at summer-noon
Oft have I heard a child, gay among flowers,
As in the shining grass she sate concealed,
Sing to herself.