Poems (Chitwood)/To — — —

by Mary Louisa Chitwood

TO —— —— ——

Blessings be with thee, while we part— Each bliss that thought to words may frame;There's not a pulse that rocks my heart To prayer, that doth not breathe thy name.Beloved! such perfect love as thisFills to the brim life's cup with bliss.

Go, dear one: must I let thee go? Yet 'tis with sweet and earnest faithWhatever comes, I feel, I know, Thy heart will still be true to death.And not a shadow o'er me steals;No jealous doubt my soul conceals,

Farewell: my life can never be Darkened and sorrowed, while I knowThat in the same, same world with me Is one to whom my heart may go;And on thy fond and faithful breastMay weep that aching heart to rest.