Poems (Chitwood)/To — — —
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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 this
Fills to the brim life's cup with bliss.
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 this
Fills to the brim life's cup with bliss.
Go, dear one: must I let thee go?
Yet 'tis with sweet and earnest faith
Whatever 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,
Yet 'tis with sweet and earnest faith
Whatever 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 know
That in the same, same world with me
Is one to whom my heart may go;
And on thy fond and faithful breast
May weep that aching heart to rest.
Darkened and sorrowed, while I know
That in the same, same world with me
Is one to whom my heart may go;
And on thy fond and faithful breast
May weep that aching heart to rest.