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-2/
