Explore "Parting" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Lean down, and kiss me, O my love, my own; / The day is near when thy fond heart will miss me; / And o'er my low green bed, with bitter moan, / Thou wilt lean down, but cannot clasp or kiss me.
How strange it is, that I, so loving thee, / And knowing we must part, perchance to-morrow, / Do comfort find, thinking how great will be / Thy lonely desolation, and thy sorrow.
And stranger -- sadder, O mine own other part, / That I should grudge thee some surcease of weeping; / Why do I not rejoice, that in thy heart, / Sweet love will bloom again when I am sleeping?
Nay, make no promise. I would place no bar / Upon thy future, even wouldst thou let me. / Thou hast, thou dost, well love me, like a man: / And, like a man, in time thou wilt forget me.
Why should I care, so near the Infinite -- / Why should I care, that thou wilt cease to miss me? / O God! these earthly ties are knit so tight -- / Quick, quick, lean lower, O my love, and kiss me!