I Speak not, I Trace not, I Breathe not Thy Name

I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name; / There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame; / But the tear that now burns on my cheek may impart / The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart.

Too brief for our passion, too long for our peace, / Were those hours - can their joy or their bitterness cease? / We repent, we abjure, we will break from our chain, - / We will part, we will fly to - unite it again! / Oh! thine be the gladness, and mine be the guilt! / Forgive me, adored one! - forsake if thou wilt; / But the heart which is thine shall expire undebased, / And man shall not break it - whatever thou may'st.

And stern to the haughty, but humble to thee, / This soul in its bitterest blackness shall be; / And our days seem as swift, and our moments more sweet, / With thee at my side, than with worlds at our feet.

One sigh of thy sorrow, one look of thy love, / Shall turn me or fix, shall reward or reprove.

And the heartless may wonder at all I resign - / Thy lips shall reply, not to them, but to mine.

May, 1814.