Stanzas To Jessy. [1]

1 There is a mystic thread of life So dearly wreath'd with mine alone, That Destiny's relentless knife At once must sever both, or none. 2 There is a Form on which these eyes Have fondly gazed with such delight— By day, that Form their joy supplies, And Dreams restore it, through the night. 3 There is a Voice whose tones inspire Such softened feelings in my breast, I would not hear a Seraph Choir, Unless that voice could join the rest. 4 There is a Face whose Blushes tell Affection's tale upon the cheek, But pallid at our fond farewell, Proclaims more love than words can speak. 5 There is a Lip, which mine has prest, But none had ever prest before; It vowed to make me sweetly blest, That mine alone should press it more. 6 There is a Bosom all my own, Has pillow'd oft this aching head, A Mouth which smiles on me alone, An Eye, whose tears with mine are shed. 7 There are two Hearts whose movements thrill, In unison so closely sweet, That Pulse to Pulse responsive still They Both must heave, or cease to beat. 8 There are two Souls, whose equal flow In gentle stream so calmly run, That when they part—they part?—ah no! They cannot part—those Souls are One. [George Gordon, Lord] Byron.