THE PARTING.
Far out in the moonlight how softly we glide!
Scarce knowing, scarce heeding the lapse of the tide.
I watch the light shadows steal over thy face,
And pillow thy head in a last, long embrace.
Thy heart keeps low music still beating to mine,
Thy white arms around me I slowly entwine—
I part the wild tresses that shroud thy pale cheek,
I kiss thee—I clasp thee—no word dare I speak.
Alas! that star-light should fade from the sky!
Alas for the parting that draweth so nigh!
Glide slowly—ye ripples—flow softly, oh tide!
For the silence of death, must the living divide.