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