TO FANNY.

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.